


Blue Moon

by cowboykylux



Series: Blue Moon 'Verse [1]
Category: Burn This (Broadway)
Genre: 1980s, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fist Fights, Graphic Violence, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mentions of Death, Minor Violence, Post-Canon, Slow Romance, explicit violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-01-15 23:46:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 75,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18509545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: New York, 1987. The air was filled with smog and the streets were ridden with crime. Just another day in paradise. Your quiet life turns upside down when a striking man moves in across from you. You’re falling, fast, into a love that could never, ever, happen…or could it?(Could be interpreted as modern!au Kylo Ren/Reader for those who don't know who Pale is, but really this is Pale from Burn This!)





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is an archiving post for Blue Moon, my current on-going Pale (from the Broadway Play 'Burn This' starring Adam Driver) x Reader fic! 
> 
> I post a new chapter every week on tumblr, but as the chapters are long and formatting is hellish on that site, I thought i'd also upload them here!

It was raining again.

You sighed. Working the night shift sucked, but it was good money and you needed it. The diner was empty save for you, the owner-slash-cook Fishel, and a couple drunk big-rig drivers passed out in their booths.

One of them forgot to put out their cigarette, not that it mattered much – the air was just as hazy inside the diner as it was outside.

Outside was pouring rain, making funny sounds on the roof of the building, if you could even call it that. It was all chrome, one long strip of metal that had a couple booths, a table or two, and a bar. The rain shone red and blue when it passed the neon lights on its way to the gutter. This place was exactly forty years old and it felt it.

You had stuck a nickel in the jukebox and were playing old Frank Sinatra, had started wiping down the counter for the eighth time that hour.

“You got an umbrella sweetheart?” Fishel asked, sticking his head through the pick-up order window.

“Nope, didn’t figure I’d need it.” You sighed, turning to face him. You put a hand on your hip and smiled, “The weather man lied.”

“They always do.” Fishel chuckled. He pointed to the front door, where a few coats and hats were hung up on hooks. A little basket held a single umbrella, one that was bright orange. “Take mine.”

You shook your head, your boss was too nice to you. An old Jewish man who spoke in the heaviest accent you had heard since calling your grandmother, he always liked you. You showed up on time, you did a good job, never brought around any trouble.

“Nah Fish I can’t.” You protested. It was your own fault for not bringing one, you weren’t gonna make an old man get wet because of your mistake.

Fishel was stubborn, and he  _tsked_  as he came around from the kitchen to stand behind the bar with you.

“Yes you can, I’m driving home, you’re walkin’. Take the fuckin’ umbrella.” He insisted, but you could be stubborn too.

“My shift ain’t over for another two hours.” You pointed out with a smile.

“Your shift’s over when I say it is.” He rolled his eyes, throwing a dish-towel over his shoulder. “Take some hot soup and go home. You’re tired and no one comes on Monday nights anyways. Don’t worry about clocking out, I ain’t gonna dock ya.” He waved a hand to dismiss you.

You weren’t gonna say no to that, that was for sure.  

“Thanks Fish, you’re a live-saver.” You said, taking off your uniform hat and apron, folding them neatly and sticking them in a little cubby under the bar. “Give Chaya a kiss for me.”

“You got it sweetheart.” Fishel said as he went back to the kitchen to do the last bit of cleaning up before he too went home.

You grabbed your coat from the hook by the door, a shiny red trench-coat that you had picked up from a second-hand store when the weather had started turning cold. You turned the collar up to fend off the rain and wind, and took the umbrella so Fishel wouldn’t get mad.

You never minded walking to your apartment after work, no matter what the shift was. If it was during daylight hours, there were always people to talk to, say hello and catch up. If it was night-time, it was usually late enough that no one was on the road. Flushing wasn’t nearly as busy as Manhattan at night, you were thankful for that.

Just like any other night, you avoided the shards of glass on the streets and tried not to trip over the broken sidewalks. The rain made things harder than it needed to be, you thought, but you didn’t live so far away that it was an issue for long.

Your apartment was right above your favorite deli, but even that was closed for the night. You were on the fifth floor, but you didn’t even mind the walk-up because your unit had the fire escape right outside your bedroom. You treated it like a fancy balcony, sitting out on the iron and reading. Tonight was not a night for reading – all you wanted was a hot bath after all this rain.

You stood under the small shelter of the overhang as you fumbled with your keys, your hands gone slightly numb from the cold and wet.

“Hey!” You heard a man shout, and turned sharply out of instinct. “Don’t fucking drop that!”

You realized very quickly that the man wasn’t talking to you, he was yelling at a mover who was unloading his shit from a big truck across the street.

“Who the fuck moves in at one in the morning?” You mumbled to yourself, feeling silly for being scared.

You finally get the key in the lock, and open the door to the stairwell. The man on the street is still yelling when the door closes behind you with a heavy thud.

 

You didn’t mean for it to become a habit, looking for him.

You knew nothing about him at all, didn’t you? If you did, it wasn’t anything you had gone looking for.

It wasn’t your fault that he moved into the unit directly across from you. The buildings were so close, only a one-way street separating them. His building was nicer, had bigger windows. Fucking zoning.

He wasn’t so loud now that he was settled in, he lived alone. Every morning at six you got up to make breakfast, wasn’t your fault that that’s when he made his too. Wasn’t your fault he only ever whipped up a bowl of cereal or maybe some buttered toast. Those windows were so big you could see into nearly his whole apartment if he had kept his blinds open. As it were, you got a view of his kitchen most days.

On the days where he did have the blinds open, you watched him watch TV in the living room. He didn’t like the news, always got up to click off the monitor right at four p.m. You watched him snort coke off a little mirror in his bedroom. Watched him smoke a cigarette or drink a beer on the fire escape.

He never got any calls, and he never sent any out either. At night, you couldn’t hear any sounds of fucking or fighting. You hoped that meant he was single. You wondered if he was lonely.

He came home at the same time you did when you worked a day shift – two o’clock. If you got lucky, the two of you would cross the street at the same time.

You felt wrong, watching him like this. Every day you would make your breakfast and eat it in front of the window. He ate standing in front of the stove, didn’t even bother to sit down. He would put his dirty dishes in the sink and head out the door, and you’d watch him until he’d get in his car.

You wondered where he went to work that was so far away he needed a car.

He looked so slick, with his black leather jacket, dark jeans. He wore a black wife-beater at home, it showed off his arms. He had nice arms, you thought.

“What do you mean his name is Pale?” You asked three weeks later, sitting on the floor of your living room, your best friend sitting behind you with a pair of her hairdresser’s scissors she swiped from the salon where she worked.

“What do you mean, ‘what do you mean?’ He’s from Jersey.” She shrugged, as if that explained anything.

You were getting your split ends trimmed. Nothing fancy, nothing worth making an appointment over, and you were always eager to see your friend.

“Ugh.” You groaned, making her laugh.

“I know, works in restaurant business.” Your friend snipped away, chewing her gum loudly. “I don’t know much else about him.”

The conversation had shifted to the man – to  _Pale_  – because you knew that if anywhere was gonna have gossip, it was the salon. And since you were too broke to go into the salon, you thought inviting your friend over was the next best thing. You had asked if she had heard any news about new people, the town loved new people.

“He lives right across from me.” You said with a smile, the kind of smile that meant you were up to no good.

“Right across?” Your friend asked, eyebrows raised.

You nodded and pointed to the big set of windows across the way.

“Like I could chuck a brick and break his window if I wanted to.” You laughed, and she laughed too.

“Do you want to?” She asked.

You hummed, pretending to think for a while. She laughed again.

“I dunno yet.” You admitted, “He looks like trouble.”

You didn’t know what compelled you to say that. Maybe it was how wide his shoulders were, how big his feet looked. You knew what they said about big feet.

“All guys from Jersey are trouble.” You friend winked. “Word on the block is that he’s opening up a new restaurant here.”

“We got enough of those, don’t you think?” You groaned, thinking about Fishel and Chaya, how they don’t need any more competition. Not that your diner was always dry or anything like that…but sometimes you felt that emptiness on Monday nights deep in your chest. You didn’t need any more of it.

“Lots of people in Queens, people gotta eat.” Your friend shrugged.

“I suppose so.” You laughed, you always did like that she was frank.

She put the scissors down, all finished with your trim. She brushed the loose bits of hair off your neck, and you got up to grab the little broom and dustpan to sweep up the ends that were all over your concrete floor.

You had to pass the window to get to the broom, and you lingered in front of it. Pale was smoking a cigarette out on his fire escape.

“He’s kinda handsome, ain’t he?” You asked softly, not moving from the window.

“He’s very handsome, from up here anyway.” Your friend agreed, moving to stand next to you.

She got a glimpse and had her fill, taking the broom from you and going back to the living room to sweep up.

Pale flicked his cigarette and looked up at you.

Your heart leapt into your throat, but you didn’t move. Flight or fight had nothing on freeze.

Pale sucked down his cigarette, staring.

You smiled at him. He frowned.

You stepped away from the window, going back to the living room to spend time with your friend, even if Pale was the only thing on your mind.

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Pale was hungry.

Who the fuck were you? How had he gone a whole month living in this new apartment – away from his fucking family, away from his shitty friends, away from everything and everyone – not noticing you? You were all he could notice now.

You lived right across from him. He could fold up the shitty newspaper into a paper airplane and sail it right into your window if you left it open. You never did, and he never would, but that wasn’t the fucking point.

What even was the point? He didn’t know. He liked to watch you. Was that creepy? Was he a fucking creep? No, he told himself, you started it, you were watching him too. You thought he didn’t know, but he knew. But it was okay.

Wasn’t it?

He liked the way you looked, walking back from the little market down the street. You always carried too many plastic bags on your arms, but you still looked good. He liked the way you looked when you stopped to talk with people you knew on the street, probably coming home from work. He wanted to find out where you worked.

Pale jerked off the night he bumped into you on the street.

The bump had been on purpose, he had been watching you from his window long enough to know that on Thursdays you worked until two o’clock, right when he was walking from where he parked his car. He hated parking his fucking car, he would’ve sold it already but he was too attached to it. Sentimental.

It was overcast, and you were wearing a shitty trench coat and heels that were scuffed, but you still looked like a movie star. He bumped his shoulder into you, making you lose your balance just a little bit. He reflexively steadied you with his hands, and you looked up at him, eyes wide.  

“Sorry,” You said, all flustered.

He thought that was funny – he had bumped into you, and yet you were apologizing. He hated apologies but he found he didn’t hate that one.

His eyes flicked to your mouth, the way you chewed your lower lip.

He didn’t have a chance to say anything back to you before you were hurrying over to your apartment, the one right above the deli. They made a good sandwich, Pale had taken to hanging around there more and more after meeting your eyes on the fire escape.

He didn’t want you to hurry away from him.

Pale had been thinking about it all day, and when the sun went down, he found himself drawn to his windows. You left your curtains open that night, and Pale caught a glimpse of your naked body as you walked from your bathroom to your bedroom.

“Holy shit.” He said to himself, his cock immediately jumping in his pants.

He shoved a palm over it, groaned at the friction.

You were brushing your hair, facing away from the window, but Pale could see your back in the light of the shitty street-lamps. You weren’t wearing a bra, and when you stood up to put the brush away or do whatever the fuck you were gonna do next, he got a sight of your bare ass – no panties either.

Pale moved just out of the way of the window so that he could lean back on his couch and get his cock out in his hand, unbuttoning his jeans faster than he had ever done before.

He was so hard that it hurt, hadn’t been this hard in a long time. He jerked off slow, wanting to savor the sight of your skin. Was that a nipple he just saw? He thudded his head back against the couch and had his eye trained on your window, hoping you’d walk past again.

You did one better, decided now was a good time to file your nails. You laid down on your bed that was right next to the window sill, your tits proudly on display. One leg crossed over the other, you swayed your foot to music Pale couldn’t hear as you filed your nails. Your body glowed from the street-lamp, and he held his breath.

He wanted to suck on your nipples, have you suck him off. He wanted to bruise you up with his tongue, make you come. He wanted to hold your hair tight in his fist and bite at your shoulder and make you shout out his name.

What was your name?

“Fuck!” he had yelled, shooting his load all over his wife-beater.

His curse traveled out the open window, bounced off the wall of your building. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked, even further in the distance there were sirens. But right across the way, he could have sworn he heard you laugh.

“Shit.” He had said, wiping the come off of his hand onto his shirt, it had to be washed anyway.

He’d go down to the laundry room in a couple days, it didn’t matter.

He fell asleep right there on the couch, and dreamt of the way your mouth might look around his cock.

The next afternoon, he found himself at the deli again, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

“Hey, are you open?” He asked the young guy that worked the counter.

Pale had only been in the deli a handful of times, but each time he came it was an older guy running it. Pale didn’t recognize this guy, his name tag said Marty.  

“Yeah pal, what can I get ya?” Marty said with a smile.

“A pastrami on rye.” Pale said, it was the only thing he ordered, he hadn’t bothered trying anything else on the menu.

Marty stepped over to the meat slicer, and Pale followed from the other side of the counter.

He had been itching to know more about you, and figured since he’d seen you walking into the place on more than one occasion, maybe someone in here could tell him about you.

“Do you know the people who live in this building?” He asked, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, surveying the meats in the glass case.

“Some of ‘em.” Marty said with a shrug.

“I’m lookin’ for a girl.” Pale said, but Marty laughed.  

“There’s lots of girls that live here. You gotta be a little more specific.”

Pale didn’t like that answer, he was getting aggravated. He wanted to get high and fuck you into the floor, who the fuck was this Marty guy anyway?

Pale lit a cigarette and smoked it fast, trying to not start a fucking fight.

“I don’t know her fucking name, she lives on the fifth floor.” He snapped anyway.

Marty’s hand stilled, “She in trouble or something?”

Bingo. He  _did_  know you.

“No, I just – ” Pale started, he just  _what?_ He couldn’t say what he wanted, not really. “I just want to talk to her.” It wasn’t totally a lie.

Marty saw through it anyway. He made the pastrami sandwich and wrapped it in paper for Pale.

“She ain’t home.” He said sharply.

Pale slapped a couple dollars onto the counter and took the sandwich right back to his apartment. He ate half of it before getting irritated and wrapping it back up, throwing it in the fridge.

If he was fascinated with you before, now he was obsessed. He didn’t know what to do, it made him on edge. He wanted to find out everything about you, but didn’t want to scare you away. Did you know that he saw you that night? You had to fucking know, right?

Maybe it was just a coincidence, the sane part of his fucking inner monologue told him. Maybe you had just been too hot, not known that people could see. Maybe you thought it was late enough and that everyone was already asleep. Maybe Pale was just being fucking psychotic.

Maybe he was psychotic, but he was hot for you, and he hadn’t been hot for anyone since – he cut that train of thought off real fucking fast.

You weren’t at your window the next day.

Or the day after that.

Pale was starting to get worried, where the fuck had you gone?

He was jerking off more, couldn’t get the sight of you out of his head. He was almost starting to think he was hallucinating the whole fucking thing, that the coke was twisting his brain about it, that it never happened at all.

Until it happened again.

And again.

You were getting more bold, more brave. You were wearing clothes less and less. Your windows were always closed now, but the curtains were open. Pale went crazy any time he saw you, watched you from his apartment.

He couldn’t get his hands down his pants fast enough – it was bullshit, it should be your hands, your pussy.

Every night for almost a week you were finding ways to drive him insane, reading a book on the fire escape in a see-through shirt and nothing else, talking on the phone completely nude, cooking in the kitchen in your panties.

It was too much. This wasn’t an accident, this wasn’t Pale catching you off-guard – you were doing this on purpose.

He was walking up the stairwell when he heard a couple of his neighbors talking as they passed him by.

“I’m pissed I’m all out of film.” One of them laughed.

“Gonna take pervy pictures?” The other elbowed him in the side.

“Not my fault, she’s the one with her whole fucking cunt on display.” The first groaned, making the other laugh loud – they were drunk, but they were talking about  _you._

“God what’d I do to get my hands on her…”

Pale’s blood boiled, he hadn’t even thought about the possibility that his neighbors might see you.

He turned right the fuck around and nearly ran down the stairs, crossed the street, and managed to catch one of your neighbors entering the side door to the stair-well.

“Hold it!” Pale called out, and the guy did. Didn’t even ask any questions, “Thanks man.” Pale said anyway.

He was going to put an end to this once-and-for-fucking-all.

* * *

It was late, and you were bummed.

Pale hadn’t been home all day, wasn’t at his window. Wasn’t watching you.

You had gotten into bed, and were just about to close your eyes when there was a pounding at the front door.

You jumped, who the fuck was here this late at night? You didn’t think as you went to the door, not even bothering to look through the peephole before you opened it.

“Hello?” You asked, half annoyed. What did they want?

You had maybe a fraction of a second to realize it was  _Pale,_ before he had his tongue shoved down your throat. Oh, you got all excited, you knew what he wanted.

He kissed you in the doorway of your apartment, wound an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his muscular chest. His other hand grabbed your face, held you there as he kissed you. The leather of his jacket was warm from sitting on his skin all day, you brought your hands to grab at the lapels of it.

You were still naked, and your skin felt like it was on fire, like he was burning you with his touch.

Pale walked you backwards and shut the door behind him with his foot, breaking away to look down at you with a frown.

“Jesus you’re such a fucking slut, do you know that?” He demanded, letting go of your face to pinch at your nipple. You moaned, pushed your chest into his hands. “Look at you, where’s your shame? Nevermind don’t answer that.” Pale picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, spanked your ass,  _hard._

You realized that he  _had_ been watching you, maybe for as long as you had been watching him. He apparently knew the layout of your apartment, because he made it to your room with no mistakes. Granted, it wasn’t that complicated of a layout with the one bedroom, but still.

He threw you down onto the bed with enough force that you bounced on the hard mattress.

“I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson, not to go whoring out to just anyone.” He grunted, pointing out your window to the windows belonging Pale’s neighbors.

So what if the neighbors had seen, you thought. You got what you wanted, Pale was throwing his shirt into a random corner of the room, working on getting his jeans off. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, and his dick was huge. You groaned, shimmied up the bed properly.

He crawled over you, his big hands pushing and pulling your legs to fit around his waist.

Your eye caught a glint of metal on his hand, and you grabbed at his wrist.

“You’re callin’  _me_  a whore?” You asked, holding up his left hand that very clearly wore a wedding band.

So, not single then, you thought, disappointed. Not single, but still here with you. You could work with that.  

“That’s none of your fuckin’ business.” He grunted, snatching his hand back.

“Okay.” You said with a smile. God you were so ready to get fucked, Pale was lining up his cock and all you wanted was to be filled. Who gave a shit about wedding rings and what that meant anyway?

“Okay?” He asked, suspicious.

“What do you want from me? Yeah, ‘okay.’” You nodded, impatient, and he nodded too.

He wore a gold chain, of course he did. It hung off his neck, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“Okay.” He said, thrusting into you.

“Fuck!” You moaned, tossing your head back.

He wasn’t gentle, and you didn’t want him to be. He grabbed at your wrists, at your throat, at your tits, as he rammed himself into your wet cunt. He couldn’t get it in you all the way at once, he needed to work you open. You probably should have told him to finger you open, you’ll save that for next time.  

Your legs traveled further up his back as he railed you, shoved you up against the headboard with the force of it. He was strong, moved you however he wanted, grunting in your ear and groaning with pleasure.

“Pale – !” You yelped when he found your gspot, rubbing his cock over it again and again until tears were pricking at your eyes.

“You’re gonna come like this.” He said, spitting into your open mouth.

And you  _did_.

He cursed loud when you clenched around him. He kept going, wasn’t anywhere near close to being done, and neither were you, still too keyed up. You came but it hadn’t been enough to take the edge off, you still had more in you.

“Say my fucking name again, you slut.” He ordered, biting your shoulder hard enough that he was going to leave little indents there.

“Pale!” You gasped, gripping his hair in your hand, tugging him away from your shoulder to kiss you, hot, open mouthed and all tongue, “Fuck me Pale, give me more, I can take it.”

He shuddered under your touch, under your tongue. He pressed a hand on your hips to push them down onto the mattress, held you in place and slid further into you.

His cock felt like it never ended, like it was up in your throat.

He worked you open, got you relaxed enough that he could fuck you properly, enough that he could get all the way inside you. You came again, just from the feeling of being so full and the sounds of his breathy groans in your ear.

“I’m gonna fucking train you to take this on the first fucking thrust, you hear that you slut?” Pale babbled, tweaked at your nipple and made you cry out. Tears were spilling over your cheeks from being so over-stimulated, but you didn’t want him to stop.

“Yeah go ahead and cry, best sex you’ve ever fucking had, let it out.” Pale grabbed your face in his hand again, kissed you real deep.  

You desperately needed some attention on your clit, but every time you reached down, he smacked at your wrist.

“You tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. Got it?” He asked, panting, chest heaving.

His hips were starting to get erratic, the sound of his skin slapping against yours was driving you wild.

“Touch me, please – Pale, please.” You begged, sucking on a vein on his neck.

Pale reached a hand between you, rubbed little circles on your clit that had you shouting, eyes shut so tight that you could see stars. You gushed all over his cock, making an obscene noise as he continued to fuck into you, you finally hitting the mind-shattering orgasm that you had been after.  

You moaned his name softly on an intake of breath, and that was enough to make him pull out and come all over your tits with a shout.

“Fuck, oh fuck.” He watched his come pool on your chest.

Watched you trace a lazy pattern in it, dragging it around your skin.

He scooped it all up and fed it to you, leaving you only a little sticky. You ate every drop of it, and he licked his lips.

He flopped down onto the bed next to you and pulled you onto his chest. He pinched your chin in between his fingers and tilted your lips up to his. You kissed him hungrily, and couldn’t help but smile against his lips.

“Don’t go getting any fucking ideas, I don’t do romance – I ain’t that kind of guy.” Pale said, breaking the kiss to look at you seriously.

“Didn’t say you were.” You smiled, you knew exactly what kind of guy he was.

“Good.” He said, slapping your ass. “Now sit that pretty pussy on my fucking face, I’m not fucking finished with you yet.”

You grinned, and shuffled around on the bed so that he was resting on your pillow, you were straddling his head, gripping the headboard as he steadied your hips with his hands.

He knew how to eat a girl out, that was for sure. You were hesitant at first, but the way he buried his nose right into your cunt had you whining and moaning and shaking around him. You melted, the whole miserable universe reduced to his tongue fucking you.

He groped at your ass, slid a finger and then two into your pussy to rub at your walls. You couldn’t help but think you were doing this all backwards, that this shoulda come first. You didn’t care, not with the way he was stroking your clit with his nose.

You were almost afraid you were going to break the fucking headboard with how hard you were holding onto it, how Pale had had it slamming against the wall.

You didn’t last long at all, and you came again. He swallowed every fucking drop of it.

* * *

Pale fucked you for hours, came all over you, inside you. In your pussy, on your tits, in your mouth, everywhere. You were absolutely covered in it, and it was the best god damned thing he had ever seen.

You were cleaning yourself up now, and he leaned back against your headboard, chain-smoking. You had been gone for a little while now, what the fuck was taking so long?

He hadn’t heard the water start to run or anything, so he knew you weren’t taking a shower. He hoped you weren’t passed the fuck out on the bathroom tile or anything – had you had anything to eat? He shook his head, it didn’t matter.

A minute or two later when you still hadn’t shown back up, he decided it did fucking matter, and he held a cigarette between his teeth as he pulled on his jeans.

He opened the bedroom door, ready to rescue you, when the delicious smell of sizzling bacon hit his nose. His stomach growled loudly, and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything all day.

He made his way to the kitchen where you were standing in front of the stove. You were still naked, completely nude, hair a fucking disaster on your head, back scratched up and shadows of bruises forming, flipping eggs and bacon in a skillet that splattered hot oil onto your skin.

He had to have fucking dreamt you up.  

“Doesn’t that shit hurt?” Pale asked, standing in the doorway of the little kitchen.

It was quaint, if he had to pick a word. The room in the apartment with the most fucking furniture anyway.

“Come eat.” You ignored his question, sliding some eggs and bacon onto a plate, and putting the plate on a small circular table.

“How’d you know I’d be hungry?” Pale frowned, making you laugh.

Toast popped out of the toaster just then, and you put them on the plate too.

“You’ve been fucking me for the past three hours, I’d be surprised if you weren’t starving.” You said with a sly smile, “Plus, it’s six a.m.”

“You stalking me or something?” Pale asked, sitting down at the table.

The smog outside was making the sunrise a real pretty orange, but he couldn’t stop looking at you.

“No more than you stalk me.” You said easily, handing him a fork. “They’re real yummy, I promise.”

“Oh yeah?” Pale asked.

“Yeah. I work in a diner. I know all the secrets.” You winked, fixing yourself a plate as well.

Pale grabbed your waist and settled you down sideways on his lap.

“What diner?” He asked, trying to figure you out.

“An old one.” You said, giving him no luck. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissed his cheek much too sweetly.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You said back, stealing his fork, and scooping some eggs into your mouth.

Pale ate your breakfast and didn’t dare comment on how good it was. When was the last time someone made him breakfast? When was the last time someone fucking did anything for him?

He didn’t know, but he knew he had to see you again. He knew it from the minute you opened your fucking door, your mouth, your legs for him.

He didn’t know how, or why, but he was gonna make you his.


	2. No Promises

Pale had left after breakfast. He had needed to go to work, he put his dirty dishes in your sink. He smacked your ass and kissed you deeply, ate you out and left without a goodbye.

You had still been naked.

He didn’t say thank you for breakfast, for anything.

Then again, you didn’t expect him to. You didn’t really expect anything from him, how could you? That fucking wedding ring on his finger made you feel bad. You wondered if it was okay to ask for his phone number. You wondered if he even had a phone.

It wasn’t raining today, but you needed to bring Fishel back his umbrella. It wasn’t raining, but it wasn’t sunny either. You put on a pair of sunglasses anyway, wore a turtleneck. You needed to cover up the dark red splotches he had sucked into your skin.

You tried not to think about him at work. It was harder now that you had had his cock in you, had been fucked blind by him. You hadn’t slept at all, he kept you up the whole fucking night with that big dick and those big hands and that hot mouth of his. The bastard.

Didn’t your friend say he worked in the restaurant business? You wondered what he did. He looked like he belonged in the mob, not in a restaurant, with all that leather. You probably wouldn’t ask him any time soon, something about him said he didn’t like questions.

You could respect that, you didn’t really like them either. If he wanted to tell you, he’d tell you.

It was still early enough in the day that you were serving coffee. You had your regulars, Marty from the deli downstairs, Candace from the nail salon. Some truck drivers named Mac or Mike or Mark, you didn’t know. They all sounded the same and looked the same, big guys with flannel shirts and baseball caps, but they smiled at you and you smiled back and they left you nice tips.

The coffee was shitty before you started working there. You didn’t have a standard for much, aside from coffee. Fishel didn’t drink the stuff, you couldn’t  _believe_ that, but he had no idea it was bad. You came along, got a job there a couple years ago, and made him change brands. It was scorched before, but now people came in just because the smell was so good.

It was hard to find good coffee these days.

 

You were pouring coffee when the little bell on the door rang.

“Good morning!” You had said, not bothering to look at who it was. “I’ll be with ya in just a sec.”

“Take your time, I’m in no fuckin’ rush.” A deep voice said, making you still.

You came this close to spilling the coffee, overflowing it in Blanche’s cup.

Pale seated himself in one of the booths in the back. Folks weren’t supposed to seat themselves at the diner.

He looked like he had showered at least, that was good. He looked good.

You nodded to Blanche, made your way over to Pale’s booth.

“Morning honey.” He said, without a care in the world, striking up a cigarette. He pushed the table a little aways from him, patted his lap. “C’mere.”

You knew you shouldn’t – it was inappropriate, someone could see, not that anyone could actually probably see if they wanted to, the way the booth was shoved in a corner behind a plant, you could suck his dick and no one would know. Maybe you would suck his dick.

You sat on his lap, sitting sideways. One of his hands immediately went to grip you inner thigh.

“How come you’re not at work?” You asked, looping your arms around his neck. You kissed at his cheek, his ear, his neck. Worried the gold chain between your teeth for a little bit.

His hand wedged itself between your thighs, snuck down to your pussy and was teasing at the folds there. He didn’t shove his fingers into you or anything, not yet anyway. Your heart was beating fast, anyone could turn their heads and see.

Someone might have needed coffee and asked for you, and they’d see.

“I was drivin’ down eighth street – what a load of fucking shit that road is – in my fucking car trying to find a god damned parking space, when a cop pulls me the fuck over and says I’m speeding. I say, how am I speedin’, there’s no fucking sign telling me how fast to go. He gives me a ticket, made me late to work. I called up Jerry, you know Jerry?” He asked, but you shake your head, trying not to moan as he rubs at you, makes you wet. “Anyway I call Jerry and I tell the jackass that I’m gonna be late, but he tells me he’s closing up the fucking place for the day anyway. Something about his fucking anniversary, wants to spend it with his wife, like I give a shit. Who the fuck closes down a place of business for an entire fucking day to celebrate an anniversary? Not me I tell you that, I’ve never taken a single day of work in over five fucking years – anniversaries.”

“So you’re off today?” You asked, a little breathy.

“Didn’t you hear me? Yeah I’m off today.” He frowned.

“Are you high?” You asked again.

“I might’ve done a couple lines.” He sniffed. You kissed his nose.

He pulled his hand away from your pussy, sucked on the fingers with a loud pop. Your cheeks heated up, he let go of you. You still stayed on his lap.

“What are you thinking about? I’m a real good listener.” He said, turning your jaw to look him deep in the eyes. Oh yeah he was high, you could tell by his pupils, blown wide open.

“I’m thinking about how you found me.” You hummed, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Happenstance.” He smirked.

“You sure about that?” You smiled at him, and he licked his teeth. Smoked his cigarette.

“Yeah I’m fuckin’ sure.” He said, then gesturing to the empty mug on his table, “Give me a cup of coffee.”

You rolled your eyes, slid off his lap, and grabbed the coffee pot from the little warming plate you had shoved it on, on your way Pale’s booth. He watched you walk back over, watched you pour the coffee, watched you bend over to grab a napkin when you  _accidentally_ spilled some onto the table. You didn’t like coffee rings. You wanted to show off your tits.

Pale downed the coffee in four long gulps, you refilled it.

“I’m surprised you came into a diner in the first place, considering.” You said.

You had thought you fed him enough that morning, between the breakfast and then when he laid you out on the kitchen table and buried his face in your cunt once the dishes were in the sink.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you. Over the clothes this time, as you were standing in front of his booth with a hand on your hip, the other one holding the coffee pot. He reached over to you and had wrapped a big warm hand around your thigh, was trailing his fingers up the back of it, making you shiver.

What was he doing here?

“I saw you in the fucking window, can you fuckin’ believe that? Drivin’ by on the way back to my apartment after Jerry said he was closing the fuckin’ restaurant, stuck at a red fucking light and what do I see in the window? I saw your pretty fucking face and pull over. Watched you walk back and forth, and back and forth. Pouring coffee, serving pancakes, back and fucking forth. Taking orders wiping down the bar making fucking milkshakes back and fucking forth. Don’t you ever sit down? Made me dizzy. Had to pull over.” He said, exhaling smoke. It curled around the window, you saw his car out in the parking lot.

It was a nice car, a shiny black thing. You didn’t know the make or model or nothing, but it was the only one that was washed in the whole lot.

His hand crept up your ass, you shimmied away. He grabbed your wrist and brought it to his lips, biting lightly, making you smile.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble.” You said, making him scoff.

“What, never been in any fuckin’ trouble before?” He asked, leaning back into the booth. You wanted to ride him. “Some trouble would do you good.”

“I’m a good girl.” You said instead, feeling very much the opposite.

That made him smile.

“What’s your name?” He asked, and you smiled back.

 

You walked away, you had customers you had to serve.

 

Pale stayed for two hours. Didn’t order anything but the coffee, didn’t touch you the whole rest of the time he was there. He just sat and smoked and watched you. He looked like he was on edge, you wondered if he didn’t know what to do with himself, being off work for the day. Not a day off in five years, he had said, right? He chucked a couple dimes in the jukebox, didn’t play nothing too obnoxious.

He left fifty bucks on the table when he left. Two twenties and a ten. You didn’t want it, despite needing it. Something in you didn’t want his hand-outs. You’d take his dick, you’d hog his time, but you wouldn’t just take his money. You were a lot of things, but you weren’t that. You barely knew him.

You knew him a lot better than you knew half the people in this diner.

You brought it to the register, paid the dollar ninety-nine for the coffee, and took the rest back to the kitchen where Fishel was working.

“Here,” You said, handing him the bills. “Some big shot told me to keep the change.” You weren’t in the mood to make this something it wasn’t.

Fishel made a face at the money, didn’t take it from you when you held it out to him.

“Why are you givin’ it to me?” He asked, “You earned it.”

“Nah Fish, he only got a cup of coffee.” You said, making him look up at you with his eyebrows raised.

“And he left you fifty bucks?” He clicked his tongue, whistled low, “Jeez sweetheart, that  _is_  some big shot.”

“Please take the money, Fish.” You sighed, not wanting him to think it was something it wasn’t. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t anything. “Split it up between the other waitresses, I don’t care. I don’t want it.”

“Was he bein’ mean to you?” Fishel frowned, the lines in his forehead getting all deep. Sometimes you thought about how old Fish was.

“No, he was real sweet.” You said, pausing for a minute and then trying your best not to sound suspect when you asked, “Didn’t you see him?”

“How could I have seen anyone (Y/N), I’ve been back here all day.” Fishel laughed, a low throaty thing.

“He wasn’t mean.” You reassured him. “Is Maria coming in tonight?”

He wiped his hands on the little towel over his shoulder, took the money from you and tucked it into your apron pocket. You smiled.

“No, she had to cancel.” He said apologetically, “Can you cover for her?”

“Yeah why not.” You shrugged.

“Thanks sweetheart.” Fishel said, going back into the office for a little bit.

It might be good for you to work the double, get some distance. You didn’t think your headboard could take it if Pale fucked you into next week like he had.

 

You went back out to the front and poured coffee.

 

You were dead on your feet by the time you were pushing the key into the lock of your front door, absolutely exhausted from work. You were grateful for the long days and the tips that came with them, but your legs were cramping and your back hurt and all you wanted was to have your soup and get some fucking sleep.

You closed the door behind you, dropped your bag right on the welcome mat and kicked your shoes off.

It was so quiet in your building, you could hear the last bits of traffic outside, the honking horns, the sirens. There were always sirens these days, people needed to stop calling the cops, you thought.  

“You got a really shitty apartment, you know that?” A voice from the other room made you jump.

Pale was sitting on the couch in your living room, smoking a cigarette. From the looks of the ashtray on your coffee table, he had been there a while.

“Thanks.” You said dryly, then, “What are you doing here?”

He ignored your question, exhaling smoke through his nose making your apartment all cloudy. He ran a hand through his hair, and then waved it around at the room.

“Could use, I don’t know, some fucking flowers. Or something.” He commented, making you roll your eyes. “Some furniture.”

You had exactly enough furniture for what you needed, thank you very fucking much.

You shrugged off your coat and hung it on the hook by the door, inspecting the doorknob. It didn’t look damaged from this side or anything like that.

“How did you get in?” You asked, returning to the living room.

Pale smirked, stretched out his long legs and cracked the joints in his knees. He was looking at you with that same hungry expression as always, and you already felt your stomach start to flutter.

“Your lock ain’t too hard to jimmy, sweetheart.” He almost chuckled, quirked an eyebrow at you and took another drag.

“Did you break it?” You wanted to kiss him.

“Didn’t have to.” Pale shoved the butt of the cigarette into the ashtray and spread his legs, patting one of his thighs. “Come here, I’ve had a stressful fucking day.”

You had had one too, and you almost wanted to point it out, but you went anyway. Straddling his thighs on your old leather couch in your shitty apartment felt good. Kissing him and having him stick his hand under your skirt, fingers pull aside your panties and shove themselves into your cunt felt even better.

He smirked at the little noises you were making, the sharp intakes of breath.

“Don’t go shy on me you whore,” He said when you whined, “You ain’t at work now, let me fucking hear you, come on.”

He bit down on your nipple over your clothes at the same time as he pressed hard on your clit, dragging his thumb over it roughly. You cried out then, loud. It made him groan, he did it again.

His hands were so big, it spanned almost the entirety of your face when he grabbed at your jaw, took his fingers out of your pussy and smeared them over your lips, sticking them in your mouth so you could suck them clean.

“Blow me.” He said, and you slid off his lap easily, only wincing a little when your knees hit the floor.

Kneeling in front of him, you opened his pants and pulled his cock out. There was no way you were fitting that fucking thing down your throat tonight, but you could get in a decent amount. You thought about what he had said the night before, about training you to take his dick.

You wanted to be good for him, maybe he’d be good for you too. He wouldn’t, you knew he wouldn’t, but maybe.

Holding it in both of your hands, you swirled your tongue around the head of his oozing cock. You lapped up the pre-come there, sucked on it with enough pressure to make Pale tip his head back against your couch, fist your hair tight. He forced you down onto it more, making you gag, tears coming to your eyes out of reflex.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He grunted, as you choked on his cock.

Your hands flew up to his thighs to steady yourself, you could feel the muscle there tensing under your touch. He was thrusting into your throat, pushing his slick and your spit against the roof of your mouth. You were careful to watch your teeth.

His grip on your hair tightened. It hurt your scalp, but you couldn’t pull away to bitch about it. You were sweating, working hard to get him riled up, to make him feel good.

Your hands made up for whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth, jerking him off in a way that made those thighs twitch. Occasionally you rolled his balls, and he almost kneed you in the face. How would you have explained that black eye?

“I can’t fucking wait to get my cock in you after this.” He breathed out, and something like pride filled your chest.

You could tell you were doing a good job, switching from sucking to just opening your mouth as much as you could to let him fuck your throat was easy enough, but every now and again he would get too enthusiastic and pull out too far, slipping out of your mouth.

You took those moments to lick from the base of his dick to the very tip, trace your tongue under the head, in his slit. He cursed loud when you did that, hips pushing up into your face. You did it again, and again until he was panting.

Without any warning he yanked your head off of him just in time to paint come all over your face.

You stayed on the ground, on your knees for a minute, looked up at him through your lashes. You could feel his sticky come on your cheek, licked up what you could. Your muscles were sore.

“Do you like baths?” You asked. He had said he had a stressful day, maybe he could use one as much as you could.

“How’s that?” He blinked, too blissed out for the moment.

“Taking a bath, do you like to?” You repeated.

“Sometimes.” He shrugged.

You got up off of your knees, started taking your clothes off, right there in the living room. You could feel Pale’s stare burning into your skin.

“Take one with me?” You asked.

“Can I fuck you there?” He asked back.

“You can fuck me wherever you want.” You smiled, standing completely naked before him. He looked like he wanted to jump you, and you wouldn’t be that opposed to that, “But I’d like to take a bath.”

“So then let’s take a fucking bath.” Pale said, getting up too.

You smiled again and walked to the bathroom, Pale close behind you. He kept a hand on you, didn’t like to let go. It made your stomach do those stupid flips again.

“Jesus you really  _don’t_  got any fucking furniture, huh?” Pale asked, leaning against the doorway to the bathroom as you went to plug the tub.

You shot him a dirty look, and he put his hands up in defense.

You had exactly a sink, a toilet, and a bathtub, what the hell else did he expect you to have?

“This thing leaks.” He noted, when you turned on the faucet, dropped in some soap to make it bubble up.

“That’s what all the towels are for.” You gestured to the bunched up towels around the claw feet of the bathtub.

When the tub was as full as it was gonna get, he went in first. You had tried to judge the water level so it wouldn’t spill all over the fucking place when the two of you were in it together, but when you climbed in after him some sloshed over the edge anyway.

Whatever, you had the towels.

Pale sat with his knees up, rested his head against one edge of the tub. You sat on his lap facing him, your back resting against his knees. He looked at you for a long time, lifted his hand to rub bubbles against your tits.

“You look like you got mauled.” He commented, and you laughed.  

“Yeah, a wild animal got me.” You teased.

“Hey I ain’t no wild fuckin’ animal.” He sat up a little, making you fall against his chest for support. “Didn’t you see the present I left ya?” He asked, kissing you, making you hot.

“Oh we’re giving gifts now?” You acted innocent, but your smile gave you away. The money was in your coat pocket, on the floor in the living room. Maybe you could sneak it back into his wallet without him noticing.

He kissed you again, slid his tongue against yours as he grabbed you around your waist and groaned when you reached down and guided his hard cock into you, sinking down on it.

“Shit.” He hissed, making you grin.

You planted your knees on the bottom of the tub, held on to his shoulders as you rode him.

The hot water loosened up your muscles, made you relaxed. He thrust up into you easy, you moaned like a whore for him.

“Been fucking looking forward to this pussy all day.” He grunted. Water sloshed onto the floor as he bucked up into you.

“Oh yeah?” You gasped, feeling those butterflies again.

“Yeah.” He slid his hands up from your waist to grope at your tits, spread the soapy bubbles around and pinched at your nipples. “You didn’t fucking come home when I thought you would, you slut.”

So he  _had_  been waiting a while, you thought. You didn’t have much room for thought, not when you bounced on his cock like that.

“Not my fault, had to work a double.” You moaned out, let your head fall back. Your hair got all wet in the tub.

“I don’t fucking like it.” He grumbled, taking advantage of that to suck another mark on your neck. You whined, he sucked harder.

“You don’t have to.” You said, tangling a hand in his hair.

The wetness from your hand dampened his waves, made them flatten down against his head, made his ears stick out.

You nibbled on one of his ears, you thought they were sweet. Was just about the only fucking sweet thing about him, you thought. 

He fucked you in the bathtub for a long while, sloshing water all over and panting against your lips. Hot, open mouthed kisses on your neck and shoulders, spitting out the soap when it got in his mouth. He loved to lay back and watch, always watching you. You liked putting on a show for him, you preened under his stare.

He came in you, stayed there for a bit. You wiggled your hips, impatient, you wanted to get off too.

“I’m too big for this fucking tub.” He said with a pleased sigh.

“Me too.” You licked your lips, “Bed?”

 

Pale fucked you into your mattress, your headboard smacking into the wall. You were gonna get a call from your neighbors, if that didn’t do it then your loud moans would.

You liked it when he was on top, the weight of him pressing you down. You liked it when he wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezed just enough to make you moan and not say or do much else.

He lifted your thigh up with his other hand, held it in place as he fucked into you hard, pushed you up on the bed with his thrusts. You were so close, so so close, all you needed was a little bit more and you could come and pass the fuck out and go to sleep.

You were glad you didn’t have work tomorrow, you didn’t know if you could’ve managed to stand after this.

“You like that you fucking slut?” He pressed down harder on your throat as he railed you, made you see stars.

“Yeah, Pale – yes!” You gasped when he let up enough for you to gulp down air.

He was sweating, so fucking sweaty from all the hard work he was doing, making you feel good. It dripped off the ends of his hair, his nose, his chain. You thought he’d need another bath when he was done with you, if he was ever done with you.

“Say it.” He grunted, baring his teeth.

“I’m a – a slut.” You hiccupped, having to breathe and speak and moan all at the same time.

“Who’s slut?” He gripped your thigh tight, it was gonna bruise, fuck you were gonna be just one big bruise.

“Your slut!” You cried out.

“That’s fucking right.” He licked at your open mouth, your teeth. “You’re  _my_  slut and this is  _my_  cunt.” He bit your lips, your jawline.

His hips snapped at each word, and you clenched down around him, remembering what he told you last night.

“Please, Pale, please touch me.” You begged, you couldn’t help but beg, your voice a high whine.

He nodded, wordlessly let go of your thigh to rub at your clit, press down on it until you were seeing stars, cursing loud in his ear.

He liked that, you could tell. You liked it too.

“Come in me.” You gasped.

He bared his teeth again, moaned as you went all pliant and relaxed from your orgasm.

You laid there, took his cock so well, pushed the sweaty hair out of his face and sucked on his tongue as his hips pushed you up and up the bed, until they stopped, and he had his face all pinched up, until it wasn’t.

You were both breathing heavy, he was this close to resting his forehead against yours. His hair fell in his face, you pushed it back behind his ears. He frowned.

 

He stayed in you, even as he went soft, finally spent for the night. He was heavy, but you didn’t mind. Fucked up part of you felt safe; being caged in by his arms, his wide back protecting you from the moonlight.

He was so sweaty, so warm. Was a person supposed to be this warm?

“I got two kids, you know.” He said apropos of nothing.

“I didn’t.” You said, your heart beating.

Cop sirens were blaring in the distance, you thought that was a bit dramatic.  

He slid out of you, rolled over and settled down on his back next to you.

He leaned over, opened a drawer of your bedside table and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. You frowned, you didn’t smoke. He must have put them there. You wondered what the hell else he hid in your apartment when you weren’t here. Maybe you’d go on a treasure hunt tomorrow, you thought.

“You need a new fucking tub, one that doesn’t leak water all over the god damned place and that actually fucking fits a human.” Pale said, taking a deep drag of his cigarette, sighing out smoke. “I work hard, I got a lot of money, I could get you a new fucking tub. You need one.”

“I like my bathtub.” You smiled.

“What, did you fuckin’ build it yourself?” Pale asked, sarcastically pinching your cheek, making you smile bigger.

“Somethin’ like that.” You said, stretching. You shuffled around on the bed, tucked yourself against him. You didn’t know if that was allowed, but you did it anyway. He let you, anyway. “I’m off work tomorrow.”

“Good.” He said, and you hummed in agreement.

“I know you gotta work.” You said. No days off.

“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his face. He looked tired, you wondered if he had had any more coke since when he was at the diner. You wondered if he’d fall asleep with you.

“Will you stop by?” You asked. You didn’t want to piss him off again by not being home if he was gonna pay you a visit. Not that you were gonna leave the apartment anyway.

“No promises.” He said, but the way his lip twitched into an almost smile said otherwise.

You laid your head down on his chest, fell asleep to him smoking his cigarette.

He wasn’t there when you woke up. Of course he wasn’t.


	3. Chains

It went like that for days.

He got off work, he found you, he fucked you, he left. It was easier that way, wasn’t it? It had to be. He was busy, you were busy, he couldn’t stay. This wasn’t romantic, this wasn’t tender, you were a good place to relieve some tension, that’s all.

He had been relieving his tension a lot, but that was nobody’s fucking business. He went to work, he got high, he blasted through the fucking day, and then he came to your door. You either opened the door or you weren’t home yet, but you always opened. Always let him in, never kicked him out when he broke in if you weren’t there. He was spending more and more time at your place, your shitty apartment just one street away, how’d the universe fucking figure that? He never stayed. You always let him in, and he always left.

He was on his way to you now, just got off work too fucking late, so late it was early. So late that the sun was already coming up over the fucking skyline and the 9-to-5 schmucks were already polluting the fucking streets. You were probably asleep he figured, you had the day off so why shouldn’t you be asleep? What was better than getting fucked first thing in the morning, nothing, right?

He parked his fucking car behind his apartment building and walked over to yours, jaywalked and yelled at the fucking cars who had the nerve to keep driving. What the fuck ever happened to pedestrians had the right of way?

He managed to catch the door to the stairwell just as the mail-man was heading in. That was lucky, he’d been getting lucky lately, getting into the stairwell. Sometimes he had to climb the fucking fire escape just to get in.

“Hey!” He called, and the man stopped. “You got any mail for 5C?” He asked. His pulse spiked when the mailman nodded.

“Yeah, a couple things.” He said, rifling through his bag.

“I’m headin’ up that way now, been waitin’ on a real important fucking letter.” He lied. He wanted to know your name, desperately, wanted to have something to shout out when he fucked his hand when you weren’t home. “You ever look through people’s mail? I would, all the fuckin’ time if I were a mail-man. Bet you’d see some pretty juicy fuckin’ stuff. You know my uncle used to be a postal worker, he dealt with shipping and handling, I know the hours fucking suck – hey do you happen to know – ” Pale said around his cigarette, only shutting up when the mail-man shoved a pile of letters into his chest.

“Here you go pal, I got a long route.” The man said, making Pale frown.

“Well fuck me, sorry for trying to make some fucking conversation.” He scoffed, but deciding it wasn’t worth it, not with you right upstairs.

(Y/N). There it was, printed right on the fucking envelope. A little bent and had some water damage, thanks to the fucking post office, but there it was. He had been trying to figure out your fucking name for weeks, you being the smart-ass you were not telling him. It was driving him fucking off the walls not knowing your name, but he finally fucking had it in his hands.

(Y/N). Right in black ink.

_Past Due._ Stamped in red ink next to it.

“What the fuck?” He frowned, not giving a shit and tearing open the envelope right in the middle of the fucking stairwell.

They had shut off your heat, those fucking bastards. He was going to make them fucking regret that – he got all wound up until he saw that you had missed the deadline by almost three fucking weeks. No wonder it was freezing all the fucking time in your apartment, he thought.

It wasn’t even that much, he had more than your bill was in his fucking pocket.

He went back down the stairs to the little deli. Marty was there, and he wasn’t too fucking happy to see Pale, but he never was. Who gave a shit? He had to fix your fucking bill before they shut the water off too, which they were fucking fixing to do if they didn’t get their money by Sunday. Jesus, he thought, it was like the fucking mob, these damn utilities.

“You got a pen?” Pale asked.

“Fresh out.” Marty sniffed.

Big fucking mistake, Pale thought.

He grabbed Marty by the front of his shitty apron, pulled him flush to the fucking glass counter, and plucked the clearly visible pen from right out of his apron pocket, and let him go. Marty was rearing up to swing a fucking fist at him, when the bell to the door opened, and a hungry customer walked up to the counter asking for a half dozen bagels with lox.

Pale used the distraction to fill out the fucking form and return envelope the utilities people sent you, slapped the pen on the top of the counter and went back outside. He unrolled crisp hundred dollar bills, enough to pay off the next couple months.

It was about to get real fucking cold here, with the holidays coming up soon. The weather man on the radio said snow should show up in the next day or two, he didn’t need you fucking dying from exposure in your own fucking apartment.

He licked the envelope and shut it, shoved it in the blue public mailbox on the side of the road, and made his way back up your fucking stairs. He was angry, hands clenched into fucking fists as he climbed up the stairs two at a time. His mind started spiraling, thinking of all the bad fucking things that could happen – no heat, no water, no electric, what the fuck were you thinking?

He jostled your fucking lock and barged into your apartment, pissed off. Even more so because you were standing in your fucking kitchen, in nothing but your fucking panties, looking like a god damned angel, making some breakfast. 

Like you didn’t know you were in trouble.  

“Morning.” You smiled at him, all bright and lit from the sun, but he wasn’t fucking having it, he put your mail on the table with a little more force than was probably fucking necessary.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were behind on your fucking bills?” He didn’t bother saying hello, he was too mad.

Your smile fell, you turned away to look at the pan on the stove. You knew you were in trouble now.

“It was just the one. I was going to handle it.” You said.

“You were going to handle it? When the fuck were you gonna handle it, huh? That ain’t fucking good enough doll, you can’t go doing shit like that. You know how people get sick? You see them fucking folks dying out there? It’s because they do shit like this, you can’t go fucking doing this shit.” Pale started pacing the kitchen, running a hand through his hair and punctuating the air with the other.

“Don’t yell at me.” You immediately got defensive, and that made Pale more pissed off.

“I’m not yelling! I’m not fucking yelling, okay?” He yelled, taking a deep breath and trying but failing to calm the fuck down, “If you got a problem, you tell me about it. That’s what the fuck I do, okay? I solve fucking problems. Cook doesn’t show up, I’m the fucking cook. Shipment don’t get delivered? I gotta fucking go pick shit up. I got twenty fucking years of solving problems, next time you fucking tell me. Don’t go not telling me bullshit like this!”

His voice got louder and louder, until he realized he was shaking. He realized you were shaking too. Regret burned in his throat like acid.

“Pale – please I don’t – I – ” You hiccupped, and in a fucking instant he was trying to make himself not the least fucking bit threatening as he went to you, felt like he was having a heart attack with the way your eyebrows pinched and your fucking chin wobbled and the way he saw wetness in your pretty fucking eyes.

“Oh shit, wait – no,” He said, real quiet, burning burning burning, “Fuck, no, come here. Don’t cry, okay? Come here.” He wrapped you up in his arms, and you tucked your face into his chest.

“I was gonna – ” Your voice cracked, but he just tilted your head up and kissed you real long, real gentle, trying to apologize.

He kissed you slow, calming you down and him down at the same time. He licked against your mouth, but then pulled back and pressed a couple chaste kisses to your lips too, holding you tight.

“Shh, don’t.” He said soft, “I didn’t mean to yell, I just gotta make sure you’re fucking taken care of, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, your eyes searching his.

“Lemme kiss you, huh? Gotta warm you up, you’re freezing.” He said, and you nodded, tilted your head up to kiss him some more. He dusted a few stray droplets off of your cheek, kissed the corners of your eyes. “No tears, okay?”

“Okay.” You sniffled. You shifted closer to him, rubbing yourself all over his clothes, sighing at how the fabric felt against you. Pale could feel your hard fucking nipples through the cotton of his shirt – his mouth watered.

“I was hoping you’d come by, I was making breakfast for us.” You gestured to the pan that had apparently just finished heating up some butter.

“I can’t fucking believe I’m saying this but go put a fuckin’ robe on. It’s cold.” He kissed you one more time before letting you go, “I’ll finish breakfast.”

“I was making pancakes.” You said with a smile, walking into your bedroom.

Pale surveyed the situation, what kinda fucking pancake recipe was this, he thought, raiding your cabinets and fridge – that was another fucking thing he was gonna have to deal with at some point, getting you to have more than just one shelf on the fridge filled. He wasn’t gonna bring it up.

“What the fuck is that?” He asked when you came back, flipping flapjacks like no fucking problem.

“It’s my robe.” You said, posing with a goofy grin, tears all gone. You were trying to be sultry like some girl in a fucking magazine.

“No it ain’t.” Pale shook his head, couldn’t help but fuckin smile at you, you looked so wrong in something that ratty. It was once a bathrobe in a previous fucking life, but it was discolored and worn out, too many washes.

“Well unless you stashed a different one in my closet then yeah it is.” You pointed out, making him lick his teeth.

He had hidden a bunch of shit in your apartment, guess you were going looking for it then huh? He would have to take you up on that and go out and get you something you should be wearing, something soft and warm.

“Eat your fucking pancakes.” He said, and you did.

He ate you out after you finished, while the pan was soaking in the sink. He fucked you after that, made you cry for a whole different fucking reason, and then he went across the fucking street to pass out. You told him he could stay, but he knew he couldn’t, he shouldn’t. So he didn’t.

 

* * *

 

He missed you.

 

He was gonna find you when he got off work, take you out to a nice fucking dinner. He wanted to give you something, the little something that had been burnin a hole in his fucking pocket for a week now. Wanted to push you up against the wall and make you come for dessert. God knows he fucking deserved it. Everything and everyone was pissing him the fuck off.

Fucking phone kept blowing up, he wanted to yank the power cord outta the fucking wall. How many fucking times did he gotta yell at these people before they figured out how to do their fuckin’ jobs? He was stressed, he was aggravated, he was –

“Pale, someone here to see you.” Joey, one of the busboys stuck his head in the door.

“I don’t fuckin’ want to see anyone.” Pale frowned, didn’t these fucking losers know he was busy?

“What, so you can show up at my job but I can’t bother you at yours?” You asked, making his eyebrows shoot up as you walked into the office.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me.” He whistled.

You looked good, wearing that shitty coat and those scuffed heels and your hair all done up.

Apparently that wasn’t the fuckin’ reaction you were hoping for, and you scowled at him. What, was he supposed to be some kind of mind reader?

“I can go if you really don’t want me.” You said, already ready to get defensive.

“Get the fuck over here.” He shook his head, beckoning you with a hand. You immediately went to his lap, like it was your favorite fuckin’ place to be. “What? You wanna get fucked in my office? That it? Slut.”

“Uh huh.” You said with a smile, already kissing at him, rubbing your cold nose against his cheek.

“Go and lock the door.” Pale said, smacking your ass when you shimmied off his lap and clicked the lock.

You hesitated by the door for a minute, like you were waitin’ for something, and Pale was just about to ask what when you untied the thick leather belt and popped open the big metal buttons that held it together.

It had only slid down a couple of inches before Pale figured out you were almost naked under there, and was outta his seat in a heartbeat.

“Jesus, you really are a slut, ain’t ya?” He said, crowding you against the door.

He was blindingly hard, his cock begging him to get in you, once he saw the scraps of black lace you figured counted as lingerie.

“Let me warm you up, huh?” Pale said, licking his lips as the coat fell in a pool of fabric on the floor.

You were standing there, tits out, only wearing some lacy black panties and stockings held up by garters. God what a set of legs you had, he thought.

You whined into his mouth when he manhandled you, picked you up and sat your ass over on his desk that had piles and piles of fucking papers all over it, pushed your knees apart. He felt like he couldn’t get his cock out fast enough.

“Pale, please, fuck me.” You ran your hands over his shoulders, was pulling him to lean over you, was kissing his cheek, his neck.

He couldn’t say no to that.

He pulled your underwear down off your legs, stuffed it in your mouth.

“You gotta be quiet you whore, alright?” He said lowly, dangerously. “Can’t have folks out there enjoying their lunch hear a slut get fucked, alright?”

“Mmhm.” You hummed, muffled by the lacy. Filthy girl, he thought, adrenaline spiking.

He rubbed his cock at your slit for a minute, savoring the feeling of it like some of those cocksuckers out there might be savoring their hundred dollar bottle of fucking wine, before shoving his way into you. He always liked the surprised face you made whenever he first thrust into you, like you had never felt like that before. He could almost get drunk on that fucking face.

“We gotta make this fast, okay?” He couldn’t take his time with you the way he wanted, not with people knocking on his fucking door every twenty minutes at this fucking place. But twenty minutes was enough to get you off if he did his job right, and fuck if he wasn’t gonna deliver.

You bit down on your own underwear and nodded, nipples hard, so fucking hard. Pale sucked one into his mouth, bent you back far enough on the desk that he could reach without having to stop the rhythm of his hips. The desk creaked under the two of yous, iron legs scraping against the floor bit by bit as his hips smacked yours.

You were makin’ all sorts of pretty fucking sounds, sounds that made him sweat. He was wearing all his clothes, they were gonna smell like sex after he was done with you. He never wanted to wash them.

He licked his teeth, pushed you flat against the desk, pulled one of your legs over his shoulder, drove into you hard and rough. He shoulda bound your wrists, but you were doing a good job keeping them above your head, gripping the edge of the desk.

He thrust over your g-spot, that made you arch up a little. He licked his lips, did it again. He was gonna say something stupid, something like how good you looked, how pretty your lips were, how he wanted to spit into your mouth and make you swallow it. He bit on your other nipple instead, thrust against you and rubbed at your clit.

You said something that sounded like his name, and you were clenching down on him, making him come.

“Fuck, shit – ” He fucked you through his orgasm, making sure you got off too, fucked you hard and rubbed your clit and sucked on your nipple until you threw your head back and came.

He tugged the panties out of your mouth, stuffed them in his pocket. He was breathing hard, you wiped the sweat from his forehead and rubbed it all over your chest. Pale was still pushing his come into you, he could feel it, feel the way it was throbbing into your cunt. You were breathing real hard too.

You didn’t seem to mind, looked all too comfortable on his shitty desk in his crappy office, lookin like the cat that got the cream, even though he was the one who did all the hard fucking work. You just had to lay back and take it, seedy princess. You took it well, he had to fuckin’ admit.

He pulled out of you, watched his come ooze out of you. He pushed it back in, fucked his fingers into you until you were squirming from it being too much, and then he did it some more. You smiled.

He stepped away from you just enough so that you could get off the desk.

“Hey I was thinkin,” Pale said, something in his chest beatin like nervousness. You had slipped between his legs, licking up the last bits of come, cleaning him off. He detangled his fingers from your hair, tucked it back behind your ears. “If you ain’t busy, the two of us go out to dinner tonight.”

You sat back, wiped your mouth with your hand, looked up at him through your lashes. He tucked his cock back into his trousers before he could think about fucking you again.

“Where’re we goin?” You asked with an easy breezy smile, as if you weren’t just biting down on your own underwear to muffle your cries.

“You like steak?” He asked, mind already running through the best fucking places in New York to take you.

“I like steakhouses.” You said, and he didn’t know what the fuck that meant, but he nodded.

“Then we’ll go to a steakhouse.” He decided, and you smiled, looked around for your coat. He watched you cover up those perfect fucking tits, it made his mood sour. He wanted to get one last good look at you. “Take the subway into Manhattan, then to Brooklyn. You take the subway a lot?” He asked.

“Not really.” You shrugged.

“Don’t go expectin’ nothing fuckin’ fancy.” He said, right when the phone rang. “Get outta here, I’ll come get you after I get off work.” Pale sat back in his chair, picked up the phone and started talking. “Yeah – what the fuck do you need now?…”

You nodded with a smile, leaned over to kiss him. He pinched at your nipple, covered the receiver of the phone with his other hand.

“Don’t go getting into any trouble.” He said, and you nodded.

It was gonna be a long fucking rest of his day, he thought, watching you walk away like that.

 

Pale didn’t bother waiting for you to answer the door, he had a schedule to keep and he’d be damned if he didn’t make it. He shook the door handle enough that the lock popped open – that made him frown, how the fuck was anyone supposed to stay safe in this building? – and let himself in.

“Train’s in twenty minutes.” He announced himself.

“You could say hello.” You said with a smile, walking into the living room from the bedroom. You were dressed up real pretty, Pale thought, you looked like a million bucks. Well, maybe closer to a hundred bucks, but it was still nice. Better than that fucking apron and hat you always wore at the fuckin diner.

Pale had you naked so often he almost forgot how good you looked all covered up. Not that anything beat the fucking way you looked all blissed out in bed.

“Hello.” He said dryly, took his finger and tapped his lips.

You smiled, stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. He wound an arm around you, groped at your ass and gave it a light pat before handing you the fuckin bouquet of lilies.

“You brought me flowers.” You said, surprised.

“Yeah go put them in a fuckin’ vase somewhere. It’ll liven up the place a little.” Pale sniffed, god your apartment sucked.

“What, you don’t like exposed walls and absolute lack of flooring?” You joked, going to the kitchen and pulling out a big glass cup.

You stuck the flowers in there, filled up the cup with water. Didn’t you have a fucking vase? You had to be kidding him.

“It was getting too fuckin’ depressing fucking you here.” He shrugged, stuffing his hands in his jacket pocket. He tried real hard not to say anything about the glass, about the flowers, about anything. He just wanted to take you out to dinner and fuck your brains out.

“You could fuck me at your apartment if it bothers you too much.” You pointed out, and he almost wanted to laugh. Almost.

He did roll his eyes, and you smiled, knowing that was probably as close as you were gonna fuckin get.

“Don’t be a smart-ass.” He said, pulling you to him, kissing you deep. He liked the way his hand was so fucking big on your face, he liked the way you kissed at his palm, licked at it. “You look real nice.”

“Yeah?” You asked, sounding nervous.

“Yeah.” He said, tugging at your sleeve. “I ain’t seen you wear this little number yet.”

“I’ve been saving it.” You tucked some hair behind your ear, smiled at him.

“For what?” He asked.

“An occasion.” You shrugged. That was fucking stupid he thought, and said as much.

“You don’t need an occasion to look good.” He said, “Look at me, I run around all fucking day, spend most of my fuckin time in the office or in my car going somewhere, looking for fucking parking in this sewer of a city. I don’t got no fancy fuckin people I’m meeting, but I still like to look good. These are snake-skin boots, almost three hundred fucking dollars they cost me. You don’t need a fuckin’ occasion, sometimes it’s good to just look good. You look good.”

He was getting worked up, fuck why did you always fucking do this to him?

“I was hoping you’d like it.” You grinned, and he shook his head – you knew what you did to him, you fucking menace. That’s what you were, a menace.

“You did good.” He kissed you one more time, real hard, hand still on your face, “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late and they fucking hate it when people are late to their reservations.”

Pale walked with his arm around you to the train station, held you close. He didn’t like the way some of the fucking guys on the street looked at you when he watched you from his apartment – didn’t like the way he could practically fucking hear what they were thinking. So he held you close, a warning to anyone who saw that you weren’t up for grabs, unless it was his fuckin hands.

You didn’t say anything about how gross the subway was, Pale liked that. He liked a girl who didn’t give a shit about shit like that. There was graffiti all over the fuckin place, so much that Pale couldn’t even read any of it, what a fucking waste of paint, he thought.

There was trash in the whole car, broken glass and old newspapers that had gotten wet with something and dried all crusty. He didn’t want you sitting in any of that shit, not looking so good.

“Sit on my lap.” Pale said, finding a clean seat and tugging you down onto him. “You’ll get your skirt all dirty.”

“We’re all alone.” You said, coy.

“Yup. Will be for half a fuckin hour, looks like.” He tipped your chin up, slid his tongue along yours.

He liked the way it felt when you slipped your arms around his shoulders, he tightened his grip on your thighs, dug his fingers right into the bruises that he knew where there, the bruises he fucking put there himself.

“Yeah?” You sighed into his mouth.

“Yeah there’s no fuckin’ stop until ours.” He didn’t bother looking outside the subway windows, you were in the tunnels now, and it was dark anyway. The shitty broken lights flickered in the subway car. You kept kissing him.

“I’m starting to think you just like keeping me close.” You said, teasing. The biggest fucking understatement of the century. He didn’t know what the fuck was happening to him, how he let you get under his skin like this, the way you had.

“Gold fuckin’ sticker sweetheart.” He grumbled, sneering at you when you started smiling all triumphant. “Don’t go fucking looking at me like that, keepin’ you close is the easiest way to get my hands on you, get you ready for me. I don’t like to wait, you know.”

“I know.” You smiled.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and ride me, huh?” He asked, sneaking a hand in between your thighs. God he was so fucking thrilled to find you already wet, always so fucking eager for him. He owned this pussy, whether you knew it or not this was his to fuck whenever he wanted, and shit if he didn’t want to fuck it now.

“Okay.” You nodded, shifted around a little.

You held onto the silver handrail pole while you balanced on your knees as Pale got his dick out of his jeans. He reached under your skirt again, tugged aside your panties – lingerie again, he was pleased as all fuck to find – and slid in.

It was rough and bumpy, being on the fucking train. Any time the god damned subway made a turn, you were falling into him, losing your fucking balance. You were lucky you had him to hold you still, Pale thought, as he thrust up into you.

“Pale!” You moaned loud for him, the sound almost getting swallowed by the rushing noise of the subway in the tunnels.

“That’s it sweetheart.” He licked his lips, leaned back in the hard metal seat and watched you go to work.

He wanted to tear your fucking clothes off, wanted your tits in his face. He settled for letting one hand wander up to grab at your chest, grunting and groaning as you worked your hips over him.

“My good little whore.” He couldn’t help but give you praise, especially when your cunt was so good and hot and wet for him. He shoved a couple fingers in your mouth, you sucked on them right away, laved your tongue over them, over his wedding ring. His stomach tensed at that. “Dirty.”

“Good?” You asked, and he gripped your jaw, clicked his teeth against yours.

“You know it fucking is, slut.” He growled, making you smile against his hand.

_Attention all passengers, the next stop is…_  The PA voice over the intercom sounded. You moaned loud, Pale almost didn’t hear what the fuck she said,  _Estimated time of arrival, fifteen minutes._

“You fuckin’ hear that princess? You got fifteen minutes to make me come before we get off this fucking subway car.” Pale grabbed a fistful of your beautiful fucking hair and pushed your head down closer to his, so he could kiss at your neck and suck marks into your throat.

You nodded, whining against him. Your hands were braced against his chest, fisting at his shirt. It was gonna wrinkle the fucking fabric and he was gonna have to iron the fucking thing but it was worth it to feel you lick at the pulsing vein in his neck.

He couldn’t help but fuck up into you, couldn’t help but hold your hip and your hair and grind his cock hard into you, not with the fucking way you looked, sounded, felt. It was enough to make a guy go crazy, he thought, the smell of your fucking perfume filling his nose as he breathed hard and fast.

The subway jostled and bottles clanked as they rolled around on the floor, but you were moaning and panting and your thighs were squeezing his tight and your cunt was hot and he couldn’t help but fucking think it was magic that made you look like that, in the flickering fucking lights.

He shoulda had you blow him instead, wouldn’t have gotten him this worked up. He didn’t know how he was gonna sit through a fucking dinner with you, not looking like that.

You moved your hips in these tiny fucking circles that had Pale clenching his jaw it felt so fucking good, he wanted to kill whoever you had to practice on, didn’t want anyone to ever get to feel this good from you again. No one else ever let him fuck them like this, he didn’t want to fuck anyone else like this.

You were kissing him, god he felt like he couldn’t get enough to breathe with how much you were kissing him, how much he was kissing you back, all hard bites and sloppy.

“Come in me,” You told him, and his brain tripped up.

“Jesus.” He bit down on your shoulder and came.

Slowly he released the tension in his fist in your hair, had a hard time opening his fucking fist he had held it so tight. You were approaching the station, the lights flickering faster and faster. People were standing waiting on the platform as the subway zipped past – but it was slowly starting to come to a stop.

“You did good.” He pinched at your cheek. You didn’t look too thrilled. “What?” He asked, lifting your hips enough to slide out of you, tuck himself into his pants. He’d clean up once he got your ass to the restaurant.

“I didn’t get to come.” You pouted, and oh no, no fucking way was he indulging you in that one, not right now. He was entirely too susceptible to your charms and you were dangerously close to missing the fucking reservation as it was. He’d fuck you after.

“We’ll have a nice fucking dinner and then I’ll blow your fucking back out, how’s that sound?” Pale kissed you, kissed you and kissed you a-fucking-gain until you were smiling against his lips, squirming in his lap. “Hm?”

“Promise?” You asked, standing up when the subway brakes screeched to a harsh stop.

“No fuckin’ promises.” Pale said, a possessive hand on the small of your back that made you smile again.

The two of you walked off onto the platform at the station. Pale smirked, smug as all hell, all the fucking strangers walking onto the subway were none the wiser.

 

* * *

 

The restaurant was nice, the nicest in Brooklyn, and one of the oldest too. He knew the guys who worked there, being in the business. He knew the guys in the business too, that worked in the restaurant. It was all the fucking same, he thought. He walked with you right up to the host and didn’t even have to give his fucking name, that’s how friendly he was with this place.

“Pale this is too much.” You whispered, hanging off his arm like the best piece of fucking candy there ever was.

“What do you mean?” He asked as the two of you followed the host. He seated you in a real secluded section of the restaurant. Pale slipped him a hundred bucks, no one would be sitting anywhere near you for the night.

“I mean I can feel your come sliding down my thigh and I’m pretty sure that glass of champagne cost more than this whole outfit.” You said, self-conscious.

“Just relax would ya? We’re gonna have a real nice time.” He kissed your cheek, let you pick which side of the booth you wanted to sit on.

“Sit next to me?” You asked when he made a move to step around the table.

He looked at you for a second, at your earnest fucking eyes and slid into the booth next to you, pulling you real close to him. You smiled real wide. It made him want to burn down half the fucking city – in a good way. Was there a good way for that?

He stretched an arm around your shoulders, was pointing out all the interesting fucking things he could think about the steakhouse. You laughed at his jokes and made some back, he thought you were fucking funny when you weren’t being such a brat.

“Good evening, what’ll it be?” The waiter asked, appearing out of nowhere.

Pale didn’t even bother asking you what you wanted, just ordered for you anyway. Ordered the wine, ordered the appetizer, the dinner, and dessert. He had other plans for dessert, but he wanted you to have the full fucking experience.

He didn’t take his hands off you the whole fucking time, didn’t even bother to open up the menu, just wanted to keep his hands on your shoulder, on your thigh.

He didn’t take it off when the food showed up either, delicious and sizzling hot. Didn’t bother to give the finger to the fucking waiter who shot him dirty looks as Pale groped at you while he poured the wine.  

“What do you like to do for fun?” Pale asked, suddenly desperately curious.

“Fun?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know, I don’t really get much time for fun, outside of being with you.” You shrugged.

“You have fun when you’re with me?” Pale asked, shocked. That was probably the first fucking time anyone had ever said something like that to him.

“Yeah, you make me laugh, I like spending time with you.” You said, again with that fucking honesty.

Pale didn’t know what to do with that, didn’t know what to say to that.

“You like it?” Pale asked instead, as you were happily chewing your dinner. You washed it down with a sip of wine, and smiled.

“Yeah, it’s really good.” You nodded, dabbing your lips with a napkin. He wanted to kiss you.

“I thought you would. That’s my fucking recipe by the way, gave it to the chef something like five fucking years ago, it’s the most popular fucking dish here. I should be collecting royalty checks or something. I wanted you to enjoy tonight, you know? You deserve to enjoy things, you work hard too. It’s a fuckin’ shame you don’t get paid good. You know what I think? I think it’s fuckin funny we work in the same ‘biz. Go fucking figure.” Pale said, taking a sip of wine himself.

“I have something for you. Before you go getting all fucking lovey-dovey eyes on me, it’s a practical fucking gift. It ain’t a grand fucking gesture or nothing like that, I just want you to have it. If you want it. You don’t have to fucking want it if you don’t want it, but – Just go ahead and open it.” He fished the long rectangular box out of his inside jacket pocket, handed it to you without any ceremony.

You hesitantly opened it up, covered your mouth when you saw the way it glittered.

“It’s beautiful.” You held up the gold chain, almost pure fucking gold, the same kind of chain that Pale wore.

“I was in the fucking city at three o’clock in the fucking morning if you can believe that, and all the fucking shops are getting ready for the holidays. Christmas is such a bullshit holiday, you ask me. People buying shit to just buy shit. Anyway so I go into the fucking city at three o’clock in the morning and I see all these fucking windows of all these stores and I think to myself, why the hell not, buy something nice for someone. And I think, who the fuck am I gonna buy anything for? I send my kids shit, whatever they want, whenever they fucking want it, they call me up and I ask and I send it and that’s it. You don’t ever fucking ask for anything, you know that? And you don’t got a lot of nice shit. People get real judgy over people who don’t have nice shit, I didn’t want you getting judged. You’re not a two-bit whore or nothing – you like it?” He asked, taking another sip of wine.

“I love it, put it on me?” You asked him, looking up with those lovey-dovey fucking eyes anyway. Didn’t he just fucking tell you it wasn’t no grand fuckin gesture?

“If you put that on, you can’t go takin it off.” He said, something fierce and possessive deep in his belly, he stared at you, watching you when he asked, “Got that?”

You got it, he could tell you got it from the way you smiled at him, handed him the chain, turned around and held your hair off your neck.

He willed his hands not to shake as he clasped the chain around your neck, felt something in his chest seize up when you turned back around to face him.

“How does it look?” You said, all shy.

He did kiss you then.

 

* * *

 

He kissed you when you ate your dinner, kissed you on the subway ride home, kissed you as you were walking backwards into your apartment.

You walked away for a minute to turn on the light, a single floor lamp that made the whole room soft and orange. You pulled off your clothes, he was mesmerized by the way the shadows hit the curves of your body.

“Get over here.” He said, hands searching his pockets. Where the fuck did he put it? Oh, there it was, little plastic baggie tied off at the top.

“How do ya want me?” You asked, already straddling his thighs, already wantin’ to be near to him. Pale clenched his jaw, his heart racing, going a million miles a fucking minute. The light glinted off the chain, he’d been aching for you. He couldn’t believe you were wearing it, that you wanted to wear it.

“Just like this for a fucking second.” He kissed at your neck, undid the tie on the baggie before pulling you closer to him, pushing your knees into his side. It didn’t even fucking matter, he was gonna be over the moon in a minute anyway.

He popped the clasps of your bra, yanked it off. He grabbed at your tits, pushed them together. He had to stop himself from just fucking pressing his whole face in your cleavage, breathing in the smell of your soap and your sweat there, licking up the taste of you. God he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you.

He closed his eyes against the feeling of your hands in his hair, right at the base of his neck, curling your fingers there, you kissing his cheek, you breathin deep, expanding your ribcage, pushing your tits into his hands.

He tipped the smallest little bump out onto your tits, the way they were pushed together like that held it long enough for him to snort it right up, let go of you for a second to pinch his nose and blink a few times, breathing out, he could already feel it working.

“Pale.” You moaned into his ear, makin him break out in goosebumps, what a fuckin’ mess, he thought.

“What, d’ya want some?” He asked, but you shook your head.

“No thanks.” You said sweetly, god you were too fuckin sweet to him, he thought. He wanted to jump you, he was all over the place, he wanted to hold you down and fuck you and kiss you and make you shout his name and make the neighbors bang their fucking fist on the fucking wall. He wanted to make you feel good, make you make him feel good.

You were impatient, it made him smile – your hands were shakin. Why were they shakin? He was the one shakin for you. You pushed his jacket off his arms, he smiled, bit at your lips as you worked to get him even a fraction of naked like you were. He pulled the jacket off, yanked the shirt off his neck, you pulled open the buttons on his pants, you were desperate for him.

He pulled his cock out, you immediately wrapped a hand around it, gave it a good squeeze. He thought about a symphony in his head, had the urge to scratch it out with a shitty piece of charcoal and a scrap of paper, maybe the receipt from breakfast at the diner. You looked too fucking good in that shitty uniform. The music kept going and goin in his head, he wanted to fuck you.

He wrapped a big arm around you, steadying you and standing up, taking you with him. You instinctively tucked your legs around his waist, he carried you to your bed, kicking off his pants and underwear on the way. He threw you down on your bed, makin you laugh. The light from the streets outside glinted off the chain he gave you.

“Fuck.” He growled, he was seeing stars, sparkles coming off of you, off the chain.

He pried your legs open and slid in, easier now, now that you were getting used to him, to his cock. He liked the thought of that, thrust into you hard.

“Oh!” You gasped, grabbing at his back, wanting him closer.

“You look so fucking good, you know that? Remind me of a fucking amusement park – the lights. You know that? You ever been to Coney Island? You look like all the lights, all at once. Fuck you for that, for lookin’ so good. I want to fuck you up on the fuckin’ wonder wheel, kiss you real hard, make you squirm up there lookin’ over all the fuckin’ lights.” He talked and talked, he had so much to say, couldn’t stop, wanted to tell you everything all at once.

You moaned for him, moaned and gasped and pinched your face real tight when he fucked the air out your lungs. “Look so good taking my fucking cock like that. You like that?”

You were havin a hard time talkin, the way he was fucking you. That made him feel good, the burn in his muscles as he rammed into you made him feel good. God your cunt was so hot and tight around him, he could live there, dive in headfirst and fucking live in your pussy. He grabbed your jaw, held your face steady as he licked at your teeth, bit down on your tongue.

“You like it?” He asked, needing to hear, wanting you to like it.

“Yeah, I like it.” You said with a big smile, and he pinched at your cheek, at your nose, wanted you to stop being so fucking sweet.

His hips worked you into the mattress, headboard smacking against the wall. You filled the air with your noise, the way you gasped for him made him want to yell.

“You don’t even fuckin’ know what you do to me huh? You get me all riled up, just by fuckin standing there looking good. God what a slut, you’re a perfect fuckin’ whore, ain’t you. Making me all riled up.” He smothered you, buried his face in your neck, rammed his dick into you.

“You got me, don’t you?” You said, licking your lips, hand fisting in his hair. “I’m here, ain’t I?” He could tell you were close, you were making that little fucking face you make, he fucked you right on your g-spot, made you cry out, made you clench down around him, made you come.

“Yeah you are, you better fuckin’ better be.” He was losing it, he was gonna come, he didn’t want to, not yet, wanted to keep going with you forever, “You better be, you’re mine, you know that? Jesus.”

“I know, I am – I’m yours.” You panted into his mouth.

He came, shut his eyes real tight, actually fucking saw stars. You did that to him, you made him like that. His heart was racing, he felt like he could run a marathon.

He took a minute to catch his fucking breath, rolled off of you. You settled close to him, didn’t care that he was sweaty. He was coming down, starting to lose the high.

Maybe he would go run, he could run away right now – leave.

“Hey,” He said, pinching your arm to get your attention. You were starting to fall asleep, your head resting on his chest – he should go. He knew he should leave, he always left, he had to leave. He got your attention to tell you he was gonna fucking go.

“You ain’t fucking anyone else, are you?” He asked instead.

“Why does it matter?” You asked back, not even bothering to lift your fucking head up and look at him. He didn’t like that, didn’t know why you had to be so god damned difficult all the time. The chain glittered in the moonlight.

“It just does.” He said, real serious. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know how to fucking explain it to you, he just needed to know. You were wearing it, he needed to know.

“I know  _you_  are.” You said, finally looking up at him. He frowned, didn’t like the assumption.

“You don’t know shit about me.” He said, and you rolled off of him, settling down next to him on the bed.

He wanted to kiss you. Your shampoo smelled nice. He had to fucking go.

“I’m clean, if that’s what you were really asking.” You said, and he scoffed. Were you always gonna be like this?

“It wasn’t, but so am I.” He said seriously, and you nodded. He wasn’t gonna let you off the fucking hook that easy. “Now tell me.”

“I am not fucking anyone else.” You said, looking at him like you meant it.

Good, he thought. That was good. He wanted to scream.

He checked the time, it wasn’t even two in the fucking morning yet, he could still go if he wanted.

“Are you gonna keep breaking in like that?” You asked, stretching out on your fucking mattress, looking delicious. He let a hand slide across your stomach, curled just his index finger into your cunt. You smiled.

“Maybe. Probably.” He swallowed hard, “Yes.”

You nodded, arched your back a little. Your tits looked good like that, real fucking good. Maybe he’d stay, get to fuck you in the morning. You were good for him tonight, he could repay you in the morning. Maybe you’d make him breakfast again, like that first night all that time ago, the night that started this whole fucking thing.

He’d fuck you over breakfast.

You went quiet again, did you fall asleep? He wished he knew what was going on in your head, what you were thinking. He wished you would put your fucking head back on his chest. He was losing it.

“How do you spell your name?” You asked, catching him off guard.

His name? What did that have anything to do with anything?  

“P-a-l-e.” He said, rubbing at your clit with his finger, making you sigh all happy. “Like the bucket.”

“That’s p-a _-i-l_.” You laughed brightly, smiling at him too honest.

“Who gives a shit?” He asked, ghost of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

You put your head back on his chest, he figured you figured he was staying. That meant he had to stay. He let himself wrap an arm around your waist, and the other around your shoulders. Your skin was chilly, all the sweat from when he fucked your brains out cooling. You sighed happily, he was warm, always ran warm. A hundred and ten fucking degrees the doctors said.

You were warm, he couldn’t go now. He was fucked.

He fell asleep.


	4. Voicemails

You must have been dreaming.

Blinking awake far too early, much earlier than normal, you could feel a pair of strong arms around you, a nose in your hair. Beneath you was hard muscle, not the mattress. You were hot, sweating, and confused – you never woke up sweating.

“Pale?” You whispered in the pre-dawn moonlight, because that’s who it was, that’s who it had to be. Except he never stayed, you always woke up alone.

You must be dreaming.

He was snoring, not loud, but loud enough that you could hear it. He grumbled softly, lips barely moving. It made you smile, even asleep he seemingly had something to say. You wondered if he was dreaming too.

The longer you were awake, the more you believed this was real. His naked body against yours, comfort and warmth – too warm, but you weren’t going to break the spell just yet.

“(Y/N).” He grumbled, and your chest hitched, eyes flitting up to his.

 

Still asleep. Asleep and dreaming of you.

 

That was the first time he had ever said your name, or at least that you’d heard.

 

You smiled, rested your head down on his chest again. The chain around his neck glinted in the moonlight, you pressed a kiss to his pec, the closest thing you could reach.

You felt the rise and fall of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart. You wondered if he would be angry that he stayed over, you wondered if anyone else would be angry. You could feel the cold metal of his ring against your lower back where his hand rest against your skin.

You pushed the thought out of your mind.

Your body woke up with you, and the longer you laid there watching him, the more you realized you _really_ had to use the bathroom.

You slowly tried shuffling away from Pale, but the moment you moved, his muscles flexed and his arms tightened around you.

Pale squished you tight against him, and you couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh. Your bladder didn’t think it was very funny though. You wiggled again, struggling to get out of his hold, but there was absolutely no use.

“Go the fuck back to sleep.” Pale mumbled, eyebrows pinching in as he frowned, unwilling to wake up even though the sun was starting to creep over the skyline and spill into the apartment.

“I have to use the bathroom.” You tried explaining in a whisper, and he groaned.

He rolled you both over so that you were pressed under the weight of his whole body – and he was a large man, you were so painfully reminded – and kissed at your neck.

“Pale please, we can come right back to bed.” You insisted, lightly pushing at his firm chest.

“Fuck, fine, but I’m going with you.” He groaned, releasing you and pulling you up off the bed.

“Whatever you want, we’ll come right back.” You said, hurrying ahead of him to get to the bathroom.

He followed you as promised, watched you like the creep he was. You were about to tell him you’d be done in a minute, when he just walked over to your sink and pissed right in it. You were glad you kept your toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” You asked, an incredulous smile on your face.

“Hey, I wash my hands.” Pale said, proving his point when he finished too, scrubbing his hands down with your bar soap.

“Thank god for that.” You said, walking over to the sink and bumping him out of the way with your hip, so you could wash your hands too. He rubbed his wet and _cold_ hands up and down your sides, wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you against him as you washed your own hands. “Pale!” You yelped.

He smirked, waited for you to be finished at the sink, then walked the two of you back to bed where he flopped you both down onto the mattress.

He kissed you, breath sour from the morning, and you kissed him back. They were lazy kisses, the sun now officially in the sky, probably only seven o’clock.

You ran some fingers through his hair, hummed against his lips. He held onto you like he’d never see you again if he let go, kissed you back real serious like.

A small voice in your head was telling you that you could really get used to this, waking up like this. The more rational part of you told it to shut up, that it was probably never going to happen again.

“I can practically fuckin’ hear you thinkin’,” Pale murmured against your lips, “Am I not doin’ my job keeping you occupied?” He asked, and you smiled. 

“Just hungry.” You said, not wanting to open that can of worms. Your stomach rumbled to prove your point, you silently thanked it for its cooperation. “Wanna make me breakfast?”

“Now you’re fuckin getting the idea.” He quirked an eyebrow with a smug smile. “Give me a couple minutes to wake up, huh?”

You nodded, and he buried his face in your chest, kissing lightly at your tits. You continued to comb your fingers through his hair.

 

“Got any hot plans for the day?” You asked later, wearing only a soft pair of underwear, not one of the scratchy lacy ones you’d been bringing out of retirement from the back of your closet.

He didn’t seem to mind, still happy to pinch at your ass with a smirk.

“Nah, I gotta go in tonight but not until seven.” Pale said, moving around some eggs in the pan, standing in front of the stove in his boxers and socks.

The chain looked good around his neck, you thought, watching it sway whenever he leaned down to kiss you. You let a hand drift to your own, idly twisting it in between a couple fingers.

“Do you want to do anything?” You asked. You had the day off, and you think it might be nice to get out and about, even if it’s just to the local park or the mall. Malls were the new big thing, apparently. People got all dressed up to just walk around, you thought that was funny.

“Make you come?” Pale quirked an eyebrow at you with a bit of a smile, making you roll your eyes.

“Okay.” You nodded, “Nothin’ else?”

“What the fuck do you want me to say, _let’s go catch a movie?_ ” He teased, like you two were teenagers who didn’t know how to spend an afternoon.

“We could see _fatal attraction_.” You said back, and the look he gave you really did make you laugh then.

“You really are a smart-ass, huh?” He put the spatula down, crowded against you up on the counter.

“Afraid I’m gonna go beserk on you and the missus?” You looped your arms around his neck as he kissed you, bit at your bottom lip.

“Remind me to never fuck you in an elevator.” He smiled against your lips, and you smiled back.

“You’ll have to fuck me in the stairwell instead then.” You replied, and he smiled again. You liked seeing him smile, he didn’t do it often enough. Took nearly two months to get him to smile this much.

“Eat your breakfast, hm?” He said, returning to the stove and taking out the omelet just in time.

He put it on a plate and handed it to you, after you hopped off the counter. He poured himself a bowl of cereal and used the last of your milk.

“I’ll get you another carton.” He said, but you shrugged, waved your hand.

“Don’t worry about it, I get them for free from the bodega around the corner.” You smiled, and he almost choked on his cereal, putting the bowl down to inspect the empty carton.  

“What the fuck is in this milk that makes it free?” He asked, clearly offended.

“Nothing!” You laughed, “I just used to babysit the owner’s kid, they don’t charge me whenever I go in.”

“That’s nice of them but I’m still gonna get you another fucking carton.” He said, sniffing the milk in his bowl despite you telling him it’s fine. “When’s the last time you went to the fuckin’ grocery store?”

“It’s been a while, but I don’t need much. I eat breakfast here, I eat lunch at work, and I bring home dinner.” You said, eating your omelet. You hummed with satisfaction, it really was good. 

“If you call a bowl of soup ‘dinner’ we got some serious fuckin’ problems.” Pale sat down across the table from you.

He was too big really, for your table, his socked feet brushing up against yours, his knees hitting the underside of the tabletop. You wondered if it might be more comfortable on the couch, but didn’t want to get up just yet.

“Fish makes great soup.” You defended your boss.

“I’m sure he does but would it kill ya to have some fuckin’ variety?” Pale asked, crunching away. His accent was stronger in the morning, you thought, as if that could be possible.

“What, are you going to come and cook me dinner every night?” You asked with a small smile.

“No but I can make sure you’ve at least got shit to make yourself.” He pointed out.

“If you insist.” You sighed playfully, as if he were the most difficult man on the planet. Sometimes you thought he was.

“I do.” He said, insistent, making you smile.

“Okay.” You said simply, finishing your breakfast.

“You done?” Pale asked, watching you chew and swallow the last few bites.

“Yeah.” You nodded, wanting to brush your teeth.

“Good, I want to fuck you.” Pale said, unceremoniously putting down his empty bowl and picking you up.

“You did say you were gonna make me come.” You said, laughing and squealing as he kissed and sucked at your skin on the way to your bedroom.

 

Looks like teeth-brushing was going to have to wait.

 

He fucked you good – he always did. You wondered if he could read minds or something, or if he really was just that talented. If you were still sleepy before, he fucked it right out of you, adrenaline burning in your muscles from feeling so good.

Pale was setting up your bath, filling the tub and putting down clean towels so when it inevitably leaked it wouldn’t get all over the place.

You took the opportunity to make a phone call.

“Hey Richie?” You asked when the line picked up, normally you wouldn’t mind chatting, but it was a bit of a surprise, and you didn’t want Pale to know so you had to keep it quick. “It’s (Y/N), you got that key made like I asked?”

“Yeah, you want to come pick it up or want me to drop it off?” Richie’s voice crackled over the phone, and you smiled.

“I’ll come and get it! You open today?” You asked, unsure of the hours. 

“You bet doll.” He said.

“Perfect, I’ll come by and pick it up later – oh could you do me a favor?”

You told him what you wanted, and he said it’d be no problem, and you hung up, happily walking into the bathroom.

“You know this fucking tub is getting on my nerves. Let me buy you a new one.” Pale said for what felt like the thousandth time.

“No, I like my tub. It’s staying.” You said with an easy smile, taking his hand and stepping into the hot water.

“Yeah we’ll fucking see about that.” He mumbled, climbing in too. He went to the opposite end and faced you, the two of you stretching your legs out to rest near the other’s head.

You’d both gotten good at measuring how high to let the water go so it didn’t slosh all over the damn place like that first time.

“You know when I signed the lease to this apartment it didn’t have anything at all?” You asked as he got comfortable. “Only the stuff in the kitchen, and the toilet.”

“No fuckin way.” Pale frowned, but you nodded.

“I had to buy everything myself, and the first thing I bought was this tub. We didn’t have a tub at home, only showers, and I always thought that it was so luxurious to have a long soak. I bought this tub before I even bought that bed.” You laughed, remembering the (in hindsight) dumb decision.

“Alright, the tub stays.” Pale said, kissing your ankle. He hummed thoughtfully for a minute, “The first thing I bought was my car. Spent too much fuckin’ money on it, and I’m too fuckin’ attached to it to sell it.”

“Good thing you don’t got a girl pressuring you to get rid of then, hm?” You clicked your tongue and he got all defensive, making you smile.

“I ain’t pressuring you, and I just said the fuckin’ thing can stay!” He said, grabbing your ankle playfully and giving it a little shake.

“I know, I’m just teasin’.” You sank into the bubbles up to your chin, making him shake his head fondly.

“I know.” He huffed.

“I know you know I know.” You said, and he huffed again.

“You make me dizzy.” He said, like that was your fault.

You innocently pointed a finger at yourself, raised an eyebrow. He pointed back at you with a nod.

“Good, so do you.” You said, sitting up, turning yourself around and resting against his back. His arms immediately wound around you under the water. Not overly sexual or nothing, just comforting.

“I do?” He asked, genuinely surprised. He always seemed surprised when you said something nice about him, it hurt your heart a little bit.

“You bet, but in a good way.” You nodded.

“Didn’t know there was a good kind of dizzy.” Pale said softly, his nose in your hair, breathing it in.

“Well there is.” You said, and that was that.

“Light me up a smoke?” Pale asked, and you nodded, reaching over onto the counter and grabbing the pack he had stashed there. He had sprinkled shit all around your apartment, but you didn’t mind. It was nice, having a reminder of him when he wasn’t there.

You pulled a cigarette out of the pack, turned around as best you could in the tub and gently placed it between his lips, and struck a match with your wet hands, lighting it.

He took a deep drag, and you settled back down against his chest, dropping the match into the bathwater, watching it sizzle.

“I gotta go back to my fucking apartment.” He said on an exhale after a minute or two. You knew that was coming, but it still hurt a little to hear him have to say it.

“Are you going to be in trouble?” You asked, not accusatory or angry, just worried for him. If he got in trouble, he might not want to come around anymore, and then where would you be?

“Nah, she’s down in Miami.” He said, making you frown. He really _did_ live alone across the street?

“How come?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

You were still resting with your head against his chest, so you couldn’t see his face, but the hand with his cigarette was expressive enough.

“She don’t want to fuckin’ be with me no more.” He said, sounding too resigned.

That wasn’t what you had thought at all – you didn’t know what to say.

“Her loss.” You settled on, because it was true. Pale seemed to think so too.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said. I tell you one thing, what a waste of fucking time that was – still is, woman won’t give me a fuckin’ divorce, you believe that? Doesn’t want to see me, doesn’t want to hear from me, but won’t divorce me. Go fuckin’ figure. I give that woman sixteen years of not doin’ nothing she don’t want to do, I give her two beautiful fuckin’ kids who never fuckin’ call, and she splits to live with her parents and suddenly I’m the bad fuckin’ guy here? Never fuckin’ did nothin’ to her that she didn’t want, gave her whatever the fuck she wanted even when I didn’t want to. Never raised a hand to her, I ain’t that kind of guy, you know that, never did nothin’ to her except what she wanted.”

“That’s not fair to you.” You said, kissing the arm that held you around your neck, wanting to comfort him.

“She don’t give a shit about fair, no one gives a shit about fair when you’re eight-fuckin-teen. We had six days of fun, that was about it. We been split for two years now, I only see her for fuckin’ Christmas, and it’s really to see my kids. She thinks I’m dangerous, don’t want them comin’ up to see me, I gotta be the fuckin’ one to fucking fly down to Florida where it’s eighty degrees in December. What kinda fucking Christmas is that?”

“Christmas is coming up real soon.” You remembered. Like, around the corner kind of soon.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to go down soon.” Pale sounded aggravated, you were about to switch the subject when he pinched at your cheek, “Let’s go into the city today.”

“Manhattan?” You asked, it’d been ages since you’d spent the day in Manhattan.

“Yeah, you ever see the tree over in Rockefeller?” He asked, sucking down his cigarette, the smoke filling the air.

“No.” You said.

“It’s huge, this year it’s seventy-eight fuckin’ feet, can you believe that? I didn’t even fuckin’ know trees got that tall, but they brought it over from who the fuck knows where and stuck it right in the middle of the city, there’s something crazy like eighteen-thousand fuckin’ lights.” He recited, and you smiled.

“Where’d you get all these facts?” You craned your neck around to look at him, saw him already looking back at you. Always looking, watching.

“A man likes to listen to the radio when he’s driving around.” He shrugged.

“I’d like to go see the tree.” You decided, “Do you think it’ll snow today?”

“I hope not, I don’t want to fucking freeze my dick off.” He sniffed, stubbing out what little he had left of his cigarette onto the side of the tub, reached up and put it in the small ashtray he kept near your sink.  

“Hey, look at me for a sec?” Pale asked, and you turned around just in time for him to catch your chin with his big hand, tilting your head up to meet his lips as he kissed you.

 

You grinned, kissing him back until the water ran cold.

 

When it did finally go cold an hour later, he helped you get out of the tub, offered you a clean towel and dried himself off.

“I folded your clothes, they’re on the couch.” You said with a smile, wrapping the towel around your body.

Pale nodded, wiped the water away from his huge body as he walked into the living room. You leaned against the doorframe in your towel, watched him pull on his clothes.

“I gotta go to my fucking apartment, gotta take care of a couple fuckin’ things. Gimme like, two hours and then we’ll go?” Pale asked.

“Okay, I’ll be here; I just need to run an errand but I’ll be right back.” You smiled.

He walked back over to you, gripped your upper-arms in his big hands and kissed you, and then he was out the door.

There was always something so strange about when he was gone, his entire presence seemed to fill up the room. He commanded all your attention and all your space, and whenever he left, you couldn’t help but feel the difference.

It didn’t matter much, you were going to be with him again soon anyway.

You dried yourself the rest of the way off and got dressed, making sure to layer up in case it did snow.

You figured now was the perfect opportunity to go down the street and visit Richie’s shop, pick up that key.

You gave a cheeky wave in the direction of Pale’s apartment, no idea if he was watching you or not. He probably wasn’t, too busy getting high or whatever it was that he was doing, but you thought it’d be funny to do so anyway.

Richie’s locksmith shop was barely a five minute walk, and the wind bit at your face with each step. Your coat didn’t help a ton against the cold, but it was better than nothing at least.

You waved and smiled to the other people braving the weather, and sighed when the warmth of the shop hit your face.

“Is that my favorite waitress?” Richie’s deep gravely voice asked happily from somewhere beyond your line of sight.

“How’d you know it was me?” You asked with a chuckle.

Richie emerged, a short Italian fella who swore by your coffee. You leaned down to give him a friendly kiss on the cheek.

“I can smell your perfume from a mile away, you put it on so fuckin strong.” He said with a big grin, his gold tooth shining at you.

“How’s business?” You asked, leaning up against the class counter.

“Good! Lots of folks wantin’ new locks, you can never be too careful or too safe, the crime in this fuckin’ city’s through the roof.” Richie said with a click of his tongue.

“Don’t I know it, I got a lock that don’t do nothin’.” You nodded.

“Whattaya mean?” He frowned.

“I mean I got a man who breaks in three times a week, just shakes it a lil’ and pops it right open.” You laughed, making Rich sigh in exasperation.

“That ain’t safe (Y/N), why didn’t you say so? I’d replace the whole doorknob for you, friends and family discount.” He said with a wink.

“Maybe after my next paycheck. The key I asked for is supposed to make it easier for this guy to not go breakin’ the whole thing altogether.” You smiled, thinking fondly of Pale. You found yourself doing that a lot, thinking fondly of him.

“This Pale, he a strong guy?” Richie asked, sliding the key across the counter for you to pick up. It was shiny and silver and brand new, you almost wanted to keep it for yourself.

“Real strong, no doubt in my mind he could break the whole fuckin’ door down if he wanted to. He never would of course, he’s real protective.” You smiled, but Richie didn’t seem too convinced.

“Okay, but you tell me as soon as you want that lock fixed. I won’t even have to make you a new set of keys.” He said.

“Thanks Richie. Hey how’s Anita and the kids, they doin’ alright?” You asked, pocketing the key and pulling out your wallet.

“Yeah, they’re good. Look at that, won first fuckin’ place in the science fair!” Richie lit up at the mention of his kids, pulled out a picture from near the register of his daughter holding a big blue ribbon.

“No kidding! Good for her.” You congratulated him, handing him a couple bucks.

“Thanks (Y/N).” He smiled. Just then, the door opened, bringing the chill of outside into the small shop. “I’ll be with ya in just a sec!” He said to the elderly woman who had come in.

“I gotta get back, don’t let me hold you up.” You said, leaning back over the counter to give him a good-bye kiss on the cheek. “Thanks again Rich, I’ll call you about that lock!”

 

You stuck your hand in your pockets as you walked back home, the key nestled in your palm.

 

“Okay so I checked the fuckin’ schedule and we gotta go now to make sure we – ” Pale said, letting himself in and announcing himself in the middle of a conversation, as always.

Still dressed and ready to go, you eagerly met him in the living room. His arms went around you instantly, the leather of his jacket cold against you. He kissed you, slid his tongue against yours – you were glad you didn’t put on any lipstick.

He pulled away, and then changed his mind and kissed you again, making you smile against his lips as your hands curled around his lapels.

“I got something for you.” You said, kissing him still.

“How’s that?” He asked, brow furrowing.

“I know I know, it’s not romantic. I just don’t want you breakin’ down my fucking door all the time.” You explained, pulling out the small silver key from your pocket.

You handed it to Pale, who had gone real quiet. You hoped it wasn’t a bad idea, but he hadn’t thrown it away or nothin’ yet, so you figured you did good.

“Why’s it got my name on it?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, “You think I can’t remember my own fuckin’ name?”

You smiled, turning the key over in his hands – god they were big, and so warm despite it being freezing outside – showing that the other side had your name stamped into it too.

P A L E on one, and (Y/N) on the other.

“It’s personalized.” You explained, before grinning up at him, resting your chin on his chest, “It’ll help you tell it apart from all your other whores’ keys.”

“You think I got room in my head seein’ other women?” Pale scoffed, and you shrugged, purposefully being difficult.

“I don’t know anything about you, remember?” You teased, still smiling to show him you weren’t being serious.

Pale walked you backwards to the couch, keeping his hands on you. Even though you were only joking, you had accidentally aggravated him. You could tell because he had that little dimple in between where his eyebrows were pinched, nose scrunched up just a little.

Thankfully, he wasn’t aggravated enough to be mean or nothin’, but he did nudge you to lay down on the couch while he started undoing all your clothes, tugging them off of you enough to expose your chest and stomach.

“You’re too much of a fuckin’ handful – when do I got the fuckin’ time to fuck other girls, huh? I go to work, I go to you, I go to sleep. I’m too fuckin’ busy fuckin’ you right and making sure this sweet pussy of mine stays satisfied, you got that? ‘ _Other whores’_ – why the fuck would I need any other girls when I got the best fuckin pair of tits in my hands right now, huh?”

Pale cupped his hands around your chest, pushed your tits together and sucked a dark red mark on them. His ramblings sent a thrill through you, you had hoped – but you didn’t dare let yourself hope about anything these days.  

“You really ain’t seein’ anyone else?” You asked, a hand in his hair, the other trying to get purchase on his shoulder, still clad in that leather jacket of his.

“No I ain’t fuckin’ seeing anyone, unless you mean the fuckin’ seafood dealer down at the fuckin’ docks carryin’ in fuckin’ lobster from Maine – or the fuckin’ cattle farmers at the fuckin’ auction houses bringing in the best fuckin’ prime rib this side of the river. Those are the only other fuckin’ people I see, sweetheart.” Pale said, voice muffled as he shoved his face into your cleavage.

“Good.” You couldn’t help but say, feeling victorious.

“ _Good_ , she says. Christ sweetheart you’re somethin’, you know that?” He lifted his head from sucking and biting at your skin, “I changed my mind, I don’t want to go into the city, I’m gonna fuck you into next week, come on.”

Pale got off of you, pulling you up with him. You watched him carefully put the key in his jacket pocket, before shrugging out of it and draping it across the couch. You smiled, hoped that meant he liked it.

In the bedroom – which you were stupidly, foolishly starting to consider your shared bedroom – it was bright; not sunny exactly, but bright, the light still finding a way to come through the clouds.

He looked at you real hard, didn’t do nothin’ but look at you for a hot minute, once he got you naked. You looked right back at him, just as naked too. You liked that he liked to be nude around you, he had quite the build – it made you wet, just the sight of him.

He liked that, liked the way his fingers slid into you without any trouble, you opened your legs and relaxed your hips and dropped your mouth when he fucked you on his hand, three huge fingers rubbing at your cunt, making you whine.

His cock was hard, it made you clench at how hard he was, how all that was gonna fit inside you somehow. You wanted it, needed it desperately, his fingers were good but you needed his cock all the way up in your stomach to shut up those butterflies and make you moan.

“Please,” you said, and that was all you had to say before he yanked you down the bed, lifted a leg and curled it around his waist.

“That’s right, say it.” He smirked, sticking in just the tip, driving you crazy – you knew how it felt to be so fucked by him, your whole body was arching for it.

“I’m your slut and I want your cock, please, please let me have it.” You begged, licking your lips.

He groaned and pushed into you, lifted your hip with one hand and held it in place, the perfect fucking place for him to fuck you hard and _deep._

“Fuck.” He breathed, snapping his hips against yours.

He was so strong, how the hell did he have so much muscle, you could watch it ripple – his biceps bulging, his abs clenching, strong hips pistoning into you, making you cry out, and huge fucking thighs supporting him on the mattress.

It was good, so good, just on the edge of painful, but not quite. You couldn’t get your mouth to close, jaw dropped from the pleasure of it. He spit into it, licked at your teeth, bit your tongue. You smiled around it the best you could, the force of his thrusts shoving you up and down and up and down on the mattress.

“You got the best fuckin’ cunt I ever had, you know that?” Pale sneered at you, like he was mad at you for that.

“Feels good?” You asked, wanting to be good, good for him.

“Yeah, fuck – ” He panted into your mouth, pushing your hips back down onto the mattress and rearranging your legs so he could get deeper deeper deeper, you felt like he was in your throat.

And then he _was_ pressing down on your throat, and you were gasping for him, stars creeping into the corner of your eyes. It felt too good, you couldn’t focus on anything other than getting fucked, you didn’t even want to breathe, only wanted to kiss him, take his cock.

His hair fell in your face, tickled your cheek as he sucked at your skin, god you were gonna look like a fuckin’ leper when he was done, if you didn’t look like one already.

He was so hot, always so fucking hot, sweating and making _you_ sweat. What was it he had said, one-ten? A man shouldn’t be that hot.

He pressed his big hot hands and his big thumbs into the big bruises he had already left on your skin – the ones on your thighs, on your hips, on your tits. His hands were huge, they were all over you as he fucked you, made you feel him everywhere.

“Please,” you said, not knowing what you even wanted, just wanting him, more of him, all of him, whatever he’d give you, “Please, Pale.”

“I got you, I got you.” He grunted, letting go of your throat slowly, slow enough to make you dizzy all over again, make you smile.

He let his hand fall down to your clit, pushed that big thumb of his right against it, swirled little circles around it, until you were jerking, throwing you head back as far as it could go into the covers, clenching hard around him as you came.

“Thank me.” Pale ordered, grabbing at your face, still thrusting into you. Hot hot hot.

Your body relaxed, going warm and soft as it thrummed with your orgasm, your mind reeling from it but your hips loosening up for him, letting him fuck into you deeper and without any kind of resistance.

“Thank you,” You moaned too far gone, “Thank you thank you.” You said over and over again, your hands looped under his arms, feeling the strong muscles of his back as they moved and flexed, Pale chasing his own orgasm.

“Fuck, (Y/N).” He groaned, hips stilling, pressed flush against yours.

You swore you could feel his come in you, swore you could feel the heat of it.

Pale let his arms give out, falling right on top of you. He was too tall, his chest landed on your face, suffocating you just a little. You didn’t care too much, but guessed it was too uncomfortable for him to have your nose jabbing his sternum, so he rolled you over, staying inside you the whole time.

You laid fully on top of him, rising and falling with the expansion of his ribcage as he took in deep breaths.

You almost never wanted him to pull out, you felt like you could fall asleep like that.

You looked out the window.

“It’s snowing.” You said, your face sticking to the sweat on his skin.

“How’s that honey?” Pale licked his lips, wrapped a big hand around the ends of your hair. Didn’t pull or tug or nothing, just held it in his hand, cradled the back of your head.

“Look.” You said, lifting a pleasure-weak hand to point at the window, where soft flurries were starting to frost the glass.

“I guess it is.” Pale said, looking back down at you, giving you a smile.

 

Pale had stayed with you until he had to go to work that evening. He even came back when he got off the next morning.

 

There was something thrilling about hearing the key click the lock open, made you smile.

It was only for a little bit, you were heading out to work anyway. He was too tired to fuck you, but that was okay, you didn’t want to show up to work smelling like sex.

He said he’d see you soon, and you had smiled and kissed him, and he had walked you downstairs. He looked sad, but you chalked it up to him being tired.

Now you were at work, wiping down the counter and thinking of him, listening to the jukebox.

The snow stayed light, thankfully, and it was warm and cozy inside the diner. A couple of the regulars were there, sipping their coffee well into the afternoon. You were in no hurry to kick them out.

You had just finished the big breakfast rush, and were joking around with Fishel.

“I ain’t never seen you so happy (Y/N).” Your elderly boss said, chatting with you through the order pick-up window. “Whoever he is, I’m glad he’s treatin’ you right.”

“Thanks Fish.” You said, not being able to stop your cheeks from blushing at you made sure the counter was spotless. “I think we got a good thing goin’, it’s hard not getting all wrapped up in it.” You admitted. You didn’t really talk to anyone about Pale.

“You spendin’ the holidays with him?” He asked, and your chest tugged a little.

“I don’t think so. It’s too soon, he’s already got plans with his family.” You said, trying not to sound suspicious or nothin’.

“That’s too bad.” Fishel frowned, but you shook your head, not wanting the conversation to go down that path.

Fish came around the corner and walked around the milkshake bar, sitting on one of the stools. Fish spent most of his time on his feet, you knew that couldn’t be good for a guy like him – you were always telling him to sit down, it was good he head started to listen.

“Nah it’s okay, I’ve only been seein’ him for a couple months.” You said, and there was that smile again. “You want a malt? Or an egg cream?” You asked, knowing Fish definitely deserved a sweet treat. He had worked hard all through the breakfast rush, not a single order came out wrong.

“Malt.” Fishel decided, scratching at his chin. “He that big scary lookin’ fella I see walkin’ you home sometimes?” He asked, making you laugh as you worked on his drink.

“Yeah, that’s him.” You turned on the blender, wincing at the noise of it until you could turn it back off. “He ain’t scary, honest.”

You were starting to move your stuff to the small prep sink on your side of the bar when the phone rang.

“I’ll go get it – ” You said, starting towards the phone, but Fish interrupted you before you got too far.

“Nah, let it ring. It’s my brother, I don’t want to talk to him right now.” He grumbled, making you smile.

Fish came from a family of nine, all boys. You never knew _which_ brother he was talking to, or about.

“Aw don’t be like that Fish, go talk to your brother.” You said, but the phone stopped, making your boss give you a big smug smile.

“Too late.” He said, having a little laugh, before taking a big drink of the malt. “I’ll give ‘im a call later. Was a fuckin’ mistake givin’ him the diner’s number.” He shook his head.

“Whatever you say, Fish.” You replied with a fond smile.

You found yourself sneaking glances to the booth tucked behind the plant, Pale’s booth. It was empty today, and you wondered if he’d be stopping by. He didn’t always, so it was nothing to count on, but it always brightened your mood when he did show up.

 

It was dark in your apartment when you came back home after your shift. You were glad because you didn’t even have to work a double, so you got home right at two o’clock.

Something in you thought Pale would be there, now that he had a proper key and knew he was invited whenever he wanted. You figured he was just busy, maybe he got stuck working hard. You admired that about him, he really did love his work, no matter how much he complained about it.

You took the opportunity to wash your sheets, filing your nails in the laundry room in the basement of the apartment building while it spun around and around. You brought a book down there too, so you wouldn’t be too bored. You’d once left your laundry in the dryer too long, and some schmuck came and dumped it out all over the filthy floor – you learned to keep a close eye on it ever since.

When the laundry was washed and dried and Pale still wasn’t talking circles in your apartment, you reheated some soup from the diner on the stove, sipped it sitting on the couch while the TV flickered.

After a while, you accepted that he wasn’t coming, and went to bed, your eye on his window.

He wasn’t there, no lights were on. He worked too hard, you thought.

You fell asleep, your head on the pillow for the first time in a long time.

You tried not to think about it.

 

* * *

 

 

Pale wasn’t around the next day, or the day after that even. You worked doubles, keeping your mind off of things. This wasn’t the first time he had disappeared on you, but it was the first time since, well…

Your hands idly came up to the gold chain, the one you hadn’t taken off yet. You had no desire to see it anywhere other than around your neck.

You walked into your apartment, sighed sadly when Pale wasn’t there for the third day in a row.

Putting your stuff down, you walked through the living room, where you saw the little red light on your landline blinking.

Confused, you sat down on the couch and pressed the speaker button, pulling up the voicemail menu on the machine and letting it play. A robotic voice greeted you.

“ _Hello, “_ (Y/N)”.” It said. You cringed a little at how awkward your voice sounded saying your own name in comparison to the cold robot voice. “ _You have six new voicemails._ ”

“Holy shit.” You frowned, you think you had maybe gotten three voicemails in the past _year_ – panic flooded you, was something wrong? Was everyone okay?

You pressed the button to start playing the voicemails.

“I tried fuckin’ calling you at the diner, nobody picked up. That ain’t good business practice sweetheart.” You heard Pale’s voice, slightly modulated from coming through the machine. You felt bad, it _hadn’t_ been Fish’s brother then the other day.

“I didn’t want to tell you, more like I couldn’t bring myself to – I’m down in Coral Gables. It’s too fuckin’ hot here, I can’t stop sweatin’. Don’t get mad at me, I told you I said I was gonna have to leave soon. I’ll be back, in a couple days. Cross your fucking fingers for me sweetheart, that I make it out of this trip with whatever’s left of my fuckin’ sanity. Every fuckin time I have to go back and visit these people it reminds me of how much I fuckin’ hate them – ”

The message ended. You stared at the phone, didn’t even give yourself time to process that he had gone all the way down south without even as much as a goodbye before you pressed the button to hear the next one.

“I don’t know where the fuckin’ machine cut me off but, anyway I wanted to tell you that’s where I am. My kids got so fuckin’ big, they don’t look anything at all like they did when I saw them last. They got no interest in seeing their old man, fuckin’ fine with me. I’m too busy sweatin’ by the fuckin’ pool, getting chewed out by the in-laws. Why don’t I do this or that, because nobody fuckin wants me to, that’s why. It’s too hot for this – ”

The message ended. You smiled, pressing the button again.

“—So then I tell him you know why don’t _you_ go get fucked? Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to an eighty-fuckin-five year old man, but see if I fuckin’ care. It’s too fuckin’ hot here you know – oh shit – I gotta go.”

That one made you laugh a little. There had been some rustling on his end of the line, was he calling you in secret? That thought made warmth bloom in your chest, made up for the bit of hurt at him disappearing without a word.

“Can’t talk for long this time, just got out of dinner. You’d never fuckin’ believe the seafood here, I guess they gotta get it from the best fuckin’ people because of how close they are to the water – speaking of fuckin’ which, I ain’t never seen such blue water in my whole life. I swear it’s like they got it dyed or something, like they painted the bottom of the fuckin’ ocean. Jersey ain’t this fuckin’ blue I fuckin’ tell you that much – ”

“It’s me again. You better be fuckin’ eating right. And I don’t mean that soup, I put some shit in the fridge for you, cook it up. I’m gonna be pissed if you let it spoil. Don’t work too hard neither. You know I’ve been spending the past three fuckin’ days listening to stories about how hard these fuckin’ people work? Causing fucking heart attacks left and right. You need something important, some big fuckin’ emergency comes up, I left a stack of cash in the drawer with the spoons in it. Everyone’s fucking complaining about something – myself included. The traffic here is – ”

“You know I’m getting real fucking fed up with this fuckin’ machine shutting my calls off. I don’t even fuckin remember where I was. The party? I don’t fucking know. It’s two in the goddamned morning, you’re probably not even fuckin’ home yet. I’ll call you again later.”

“ _There are no new messages._ ”

You were reeling.

You wondered how much room you had on the machine for your voicemails. You didn’t want to delete any of them, wanted to save them. You looked at the thing, there was a button for it. 

“ _Messages saved.”_

Your heart was beating wildly. You turned the ringer volume up as high as it would go. His last message must have come through right around two, but it was closer to four in the morning now, you having to work the double. You hoped if he called again, you’d be able to catch him.

 

You never managed to.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Three new messages._ ”

You were curled up in bed, having moved the machine into the bedroom. Lying awake at night, you could almost imagine him sitting next to you, smoking his cigarette. Almost.

“Missed you again. I wish you were here with me, you fuckin’ know that? I fucking hate messages. I hate them. I hate getting them and I hate sending them. Especially fuckin’ hate it when they write down the message and stick it in your pocket, bits of fuckin’ paper all over the damn place. How the fuck am I supposed to know what you’re thinking, how you’re reacting through a fuckin’ voice message. I don’t even know if you’re getting these – I looked your number up before I left, I know this is the right fuckin’ number. I hope you’re listening. I’d tell you to call me back but – ”

“They got flamingoes all over the fuckin’ place here, I ain’t never seen a pink bird before, it don’t look natural. Maybe they dye them just like they dye the fuckin’ pools. I found out that some places to paint the bottom of the pool, can you fuckin’ believe that? Now that’s a scam and a fuckin’ half. What kind of false fuckin’ advertising – ”

“ – I’m fuckin’ aching over here too you know? I hate them, all these fuckin people. They don’t give a shit about me or about Robbie or about anyone, they only fuckin’ knew him by proxy, ‘cause of me. They didn’t give a shit – oh fuck, shit – ”

The line went dead, and there were no new messages after it.

You held your breath, that last one sounded like he was losing it, like he was crying. You didn’t think you’d ever heard Pale cry.

You found you were crying too.

You fell asleep, missing Pale, wondering who Robbie was.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Four new messages._ ”

“Fuck (Y/N) – I’m – I can’t – ”

“I don’t know who to call, who to talk to. I got nobody over here, ain’t that fuckin’ sad? Fuckin’ Christmas time and I ain’t got nobody. Fuckin’ wife and kids went to the beach, I’m sick of the fuckin’ beach. I’ll be back for New Years, fuckin’ flight got delayed. Fucking snow. I hate snow, I ever tell you that? What the fuck am I even doing here, I shouldn’t have come, fucking idiot.”

The third message was just him crying.

The fourth one was too.

Your heart ached for him, you had no idea what the fuck was going on, but you ached for him, the way he sobbed over the phone. It made harsh static sounds come through the speaker of the voicemail machine.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _One new message.”_

“I miss you.”

 

You replayed that one over and over.

You saved them all, played them on the nights when you got lonely. It had been a week, Christmas come and gone. You hadn’t celebrated with anyone, just sat by the voicemail and listened.

You listened to him talk about Miami, about his family. Robbie was his brother, you learned. He died, you learned.

It was hard to listen when he was drunk, slurred his words together, you couldn’t make them out. You always could tell when he was drunk, he cried a lot more. You’d never heard someone cry so much.

You missed him.

_I miss you, I miss you, I miss you._

 

* * *

 

 

“(Y/N)!” Marty said with a cheerful smile as you walked into the deli on your way home from work. “Haven’t seen you around in a couple of days, what can I get ya, how you been?”

You smiled tiredly, surveying the deli case. It was late, the deli was almost closing, and there wasn’t much left to choose from. It was all still good of course, just not as full as it would be in the morning.

“Busy, working double shifts at the diner.” You explained, having to stifle a yawn. “Can I get a tuna sandwich?”

“It’s the holidays, you should take some time off, be with family.” Marty said, getting to work putting your sandwich together just the way you like it.

“They live all over the place, it ain’t easy getting together, you know?” You shrugged. You’d have to give your folks a call.

You didn’t have much energy for talking.

Marty didn’t seem to pick up on that hint, took his time making your simple sandwich.

“I ain’t seen _that guy_ around, everything okay with him?” Marty asked.

You frowned, didn’t like the way he said it like that. _That guy._

“Pale? Yeah he’s just out of town, business shit.” You lied.

“On Christmas?” He raised an eyebrow, and you shrugged.

“Yeah.” You lied again.

“Do you know when he’s comin’ back?” Marty asked, and you got aggravated.

“Why does it matter?” You frowned again. You were getting a headache. You missed Pale.

Marty shrugged, wrapped your sandwich real slow. You almost didn’t even want it anymore, too tired and annoyed to want to eat it.

“I just was wonderin’ if maybe you didn’t have any plans for New Year’s Eve, if maybe you’d like to go out to dinner with me.” He said, not making eye contact.

“Marty, thank you for thinkin’ of me, but I’ve got plans.” You said.

It wasn’t a lie, you told yourself. Pale would be back, and he’d see you, and you’d do something together. It wasn’t a lie.

“Okay then, maybe we go out to dinner some other time, maybe tonight?” Marty tried again.

“I’m flattered, but no, thank you.” You said, not sounding too flattered at all.

“You’re too pretty to be eatin’ alone, come on.” He said, handing you the sandwich.

When you reached for it, he wrapped his hand around yours.

You yanked it out of his grip, recoiling.

“Pale is coming home soon, and he ain’t gonna like you flirting with me.” You warned him.

 Marty threw his arms up in exasperation.

“What the hell do you even see in him anyway? I see how he stumbles around the fuckin’ streets some nights, coked up out of his mind. He’s a mess.” He got heated, making you get just as mad.

“Who the fuck isn’t these days?” You snapped, “Everyone stumbles around in the fucking streets every once in a while! People are dying left and fuckin’ right, you don’t know nothin’ about them, you ain’t got the right to judge.” You seethed.

“Okay, calm down – ” Marty said, realizing he had made a big mistake.

“No, fuck you.” You said, not caring about anything. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m waiting on a phone call.”

You didn’t even pay for your sandwich, just left the deli and went up the stairs, fuming.  

 

 

“ _Four new messages.”_

You were sitting on the fire escape. It had been twelve days since Pale left for Miami. He should be coming home tomorrow, if he was gonna make it in time for New Years like he said he would.

You had rummaged through your closet, found his big leather jacket hiding back there.

Something in your chest clenched real tight, thinking about him leaving the jacket for you. You slipped it over your shoulders – it absolutely engulfed your whole body. You could smell his cologne on the leather, could feel the ghost of his warmth.

“I’m getting on a fuckin’ airplane today, fuckin’ finally. Don’t let me come back to this fuckin’ place, this was a bad fuckin’ decision. You ever been on an airplane? I have so many things I want to ask you. I don’t know how people fuck in airplane bathrooms, they’re too fuckin’ tiny. God I can’t wait to fuck you. I ain’t touch another person this whole fuckin’ time I been up here. I got a hug from my son, that’s it, can you fuckin’ believe that? One hug on Christmas. I’m gonna fuckin’ never take my hands off of you – ”

“This fuckin’ voicemail has got to go. You gotta change it. I know you’re not there right now – I fuckin’ know. I ain’t been able to catch you in almost two fuckin’ weeks, I’m going crazy over here, forgetting what the hell you even sound like. You’re not there right now. I know I know I know. You know how some people take Xanax to fly? Maybe I shoulda done that. I’m gonna be home soon, god I hope you’re home.”

“I’m callin’ you from the airport, can you hear it? It’s so fuckin’ loud here, too many fuckin’ people all talkin too many fuckin different languages. I’m in a fuckin’ phone booth, reminds me of the fuckin’ time I went to the zoo over in The Bronx. You know I once saw them moving some animals into the fucking zoo? Real late at night, got the elephants fuckin walkin around the streets. Maybe that was the circus, now that I’m thinkin’ about it. I’m gonna fuck you so hard when I get back – hey who the fuck do you think you’re fuckin’ lookin at, huh?”

“Me again, it’s Pale. You knew that though. I wanted to tell you who it was when I was calling from my bitch of a wife’s house, but they don’t call me that, they woulda known something was up. I ain’t VSOP over there. We landed –  god it’s fuckin’ cold. You better have fuckin’ found my jacket by now, I’m gonna be pissed if no one was usin’ it while I was gone. Didn’t think I’d need it in Miami, but I didn’t fuckin’ think ahead. _Please insert an additional five cents –_ oh fuck this – ”

 

You sat on the fire escape, wrapped in his jacket.

 

You saved the messages. You wished they came with a time code, wished you knew how long ago he landed.

 

Your thought was answered by the sound of a key in the lock.

 

Grinning, you climbed through the window back inside and ran into Pale’s arms, which wrapped around you with a strength you had almost forgotten.


	5. Presents

He didn’t know what to do with himself, didn’t know how to stop shaking like he was.

He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream. He had you in his arms and felt sane for the first time in a long time, but like he was going crazy too. Was it always like this? There was somethin’ wrong with him – he had to go to the fuckin’ doctor, ask the doc why his heart was beatin’ so fuckin’ fast, ask him why –

“You’re back.” You sighed, and everything stopped, and you were holding him tight, and everything was okay.

“I told you I would be.” Pale said, not trusting his voice but talking anyway. It sounded raw and hoarse, like he’d been yelling – of course he’d been yelling. He’d been yelling for all of two fucking weeks.

“You smell like the ocean.” You said, taking in deep breaths, big deep breaths like you were trying not to cry.

 

Wouldn’t that’ve been somethin’? Someone crying happy tears over him.

 

“I haven’t fuckin’ washed these clothes, didn’t expect to be gone longer than I was.” He grumbled, and you looked up at him, smiled at him so big he could see all your teeth.

“I missed you.” You were plastered to him, wearing nothin but a pair of panties and his jacket – so you had found his jacket.

Did you find the other shit he left you? The money and the food? You looked like you were tired, like something bummed you out. Maybe you meant it, what you said. Maybe maybe maybe – he hoped you meant it.

“Yeah I bet you did.” He said, giving you a smile of his own, a certified grade-A smile.

“Kiss me?” You asked, and it was like any ounce of restraint he had had vanished.

He ripped – literally fuckin’ ripped – your panties off, pushed the jacket off your arms until it was a sad leather heap on the floor, and kissed you.

He was on you in an instant, held your upper-arms in a death grip. He wondered if you could feel his hands shaking, if you could tell they were bruising you from the strength of him. He crushed you against him, kissing you, biting at your lips, feral almost.

He felt cagey the whole fucking time he was down in Miami – a fuckin’ circus animal pacing his cage, too much pent up frustration to even fucking think straight.

“God I’m gonna fuck you so hard, I didn’t even so much as jerk off the whole fuckin’ time I was down there – can you fuckin’ believe that?” He bared his teeth at you.

You kissed him, sucked gross wet kisses onto his lips, his chin, his cheek. Licked into his mouth and walked backwards to the bed, god he had missed your bed, your shitty bed that was way too fuckin’ small but somehow just right all at once.

“You’re here now, you got me to fuck now.” You said, breathing in sharp little breaths when he gripped you too tight, pushed you onto the bed and crawled over your body.

He tweaked one of your nipples hard, made you make a face at him. He did it again, you smiled. Fuck, that smile did something to him.

“Yeah that’s right, my whore waitin’ for me – god you’re fuckin’ beautiful.” He couldn’t help but say, prying your mouth open, shoving his fingers there getting them wet.

“Are you high?” You asked, sounding funny with his hand in your mouth, all muffled.

“Yeah yeah yeah I’m high. You’d be too if you had to deal with those fuckin’ people. I don’t like planes. I don’t like the fucking turbulence or whatever the hell they tell you it is when the giant metal death trap in the sky starts rattling. So what if I’m high? Let me taste you.” He licked his lips, gathered up your spit and smeared it between his fingers, before pushing them into you.

“Pale – !” You said, a bit of a laugh to your voice, like you had been waitin’ for this for a long fucking time. Well, so was he.

“I ain’t fuckin’ had a bite of you in two fucking weeks, I’m starving over here.” He said, and you nodded, kissed him, pushed his shoulders down and spread your legs for him – fuck he loved it when you spread your legs.

He made out with your cunt, drank you down like he had never had a drop to fucking drink before. He buried his nose right between your folds, so it nudged at your clit when he worried his teeth at you. He was getting drunk off the noises you made, the little fucking whimpers and gasps, like you hadn’t been fucked in years and years and years.

Your hips kept moving, kept pushing onto him, and he almost wanted to smile, too hungry to bother. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, yanked you down to the edge of the bed where he could kneel and get proper leverage. He was so much fucking stronger than you, it made him dizzy, made him dizzy that you _wanted_ him, wanted _him_ to fuck you – to eat you out, to make you feel good – he was drunk he was high he was on fire.

He spared a glance to look up, but all he saw were your perfect fucking tits. You must’ve thrown your head back, and he did smile then.

You didn’t give him a warning before you came, he could just feel it, feel the way your thighs clenched down around his head, how you cried out. He tasted your come on his tongue, sucked it down and rolled your clit until it was too much and you arched your back off the bed.                                  

He pulled back, grabbed at the flesh of your thigh, bit a hard mark there.

“You ready for me? Huh? You slut.” He asked, wiping his mouth on your stomach, making his way up your body.

He took your hands and pulled them to his belt, you quickly got the memo and undid his belt and popped the button of his trousers off, unzipped him.

“Yeah, please, give it to me, I missed it – I need it.” You said, reaching inside his pants and stroking at his cock.

“What do you need?” He panted, already dying for you, for the feeling of your now pleasantly stretched pussy swallowing his cock.

“Your big dick, please, I’m starving too.” You said, looking up at him with big eyes.

He wanted to set something on fire for you, the way you looked at him.

“We got a lot of fucking time to make up, don’t we sweetheart?” He grabbed at your jaw, and you smiled and re-settled yourself further up the bed, bringing him with you.

“Fuck.” He groaned, pushing into your wet heat for the first time after so long of not having you.

He understood now, why there were people addicted to sex, sex addicts. He got it, got it completely when he fucked you, thrust into you hard, drew those noises out of your pretty fucking mouth – he could drown in those noises.

He hiked your leg up, there were so many positions he wanted to try with you, but fuck he liked you on your back – liked the way you took him so well.

“Say my name, say my fucking name you slut.” He pushed into you harder, fucked you so hard the headboard was slamming into the wall, he was gonna fucking break it, he was gonna break the fucking wall and the headboard and he wouldn’t stop fucking you even if he did.

“Pale! Pale please, you’re so good, fuck, _Pale!_ ” You grabbed at him, your hands were all over him, in his hair digging into his back and shoulders.

He pressed a hand against your neck, covered your mouth with his own and breathed into you, breathed in your air until you were both dizzy. He spit into your mouth, right on your tongue, and you swallowed it – because of course you did.

“That’s right, god – you’re mine, ain’t that right?” The headboard slammed and slammed into the wall, solid fucking wood meeting concrete.

“I’m yours, only yours – fuck _Pale!_ ” You shouted, loud loud loud, tears in your eyes kind of loud.

You reached down for a second, but he snatched your wrist and bit down on your hand, pinned it above you.

“No – you get to come on my cock or not at all, you got that whore?” He wanted you to come just from this, just from his dick fucking into you, just from the force of him.

“Okayokayokay.” You nodded, crying – so wet, slippery all over, sweating crying, coming, and coming and coming and coming.

“I’m – fuck I’m going to come.” He had wanted to last, but it was too much, so much all at once, you felt too good, he could feel you coming around him.

“Do it, please, come in me, Pale.” You nodded encouragingly, hands flexing from where he had it pinned.

“Fuck – !” Pale said, shoving so far up into you that he pushed you up the bed with the force of it.

 

He came and he saw stars and fireworks, and there was all this fucking applause inside his head –

 

…Until he wasn’t so sure it just in his brain, and he wasn’t so sure the fireworks weren’t real, and he was confused and exhausted and the coke had worn off and he didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

 

“What the fuck was that?” He asked you, panting into your tits, just wanting to feel his skin on yours. He was too hot, sweating in his clothes.

“It’s New Year’s eve.” You said, breathing hard just the same, your eyes glazed over and a satisfied smile dancing on your lips.

He experimentally thrust his hips slowly, starting to go soft but wanting to shove all his come deep inside you, smiling at you when you hissed at the oversensitivity of it.

He pulled out, discarded the rest of his clothes, threw them right on the fucking floor, not giving a shit about the pleats in his pants.

You reached for him, and something in his chest hitched, the way you reached for _him._

He laid down next to you, pulled you too close, too tight to him, but you were like putty in his arms, still pliant and so so fucking warm.

He was exhausted, the stress, the flight, the fucking – all of it.

Out of the window you both watched the fireworks, a calm coming over Pale that he hadn’t felt in a long fucking time.

He’d deal with that later.

For now, he wrapped an arm around your waist, his chest pressing into your back, and watched the fireworks.

“Happy new year, (Y/N).” He whispered when he could feel his eyes growing heavy.

You turned around to face him, shuffled as close as you could, and kissed him sweetly, too sweet, sweeter than he fucking deserved. You gently nuzzled your nose against his, pressed a kiss to his cheek. Sweet, sweet, sweet.

“Happy new year, Pale.” You whispered back, and it was, for the first fucking time – it was.

 

* * *

 

 

He stayed the night again, couldn’t bear to leave you yet, not after just fucking getting back. Not yet. He’d stay. This wouldn’t become regular, he told himself as he blinked awake, he wouldn’t get used to this, but for now he’d stay.

You were still asleep.

He liked the way you looked when you were asleep.

It wasn’t peaceful exactly, and that troubled him, but fucking everything troubled him, so he didn’t read too much into it. If something happened, you’d tell him about it.

He missed you. Fuck what a sentimental thing to think, he thought, but he missed you.

His hand felt strange, naked without his ring. He felt naked, like he was lying. He was a liar. But he wasn’t really, not if you really think about it. Or so he tells himself.

It was too early, always too early and Pale was awake.

So he watched you.

Watched the way you puffed breath out of your lips onto his chest, watched how your nose twitched and your fingers clenched every now and again. He wondered what the fuck you were dreaming about, if you remembered your dreams. He hadn’t had a dream in a long time. Maybe he’d ask you when you woke up.

He had his arms around you, smiled at that. _See?_ He’d say, _see it’s fuckin’ natural, you bein’ in my arms. Don’t even need to be awake to know that’s where you fuckin’ belong._

He’d say that, maybe.

Maybe he did say it, out loud.

It was too quiet, too hard to tell.

It didn’t matter, you weren’t awake to hear it anyway.

“I’m gonna take you to central park.” He whispered, “I’m gonna rent us a fuckin’ rowboat and kiss you on the fucking lake. It’ll be like a post-card. You’d like that, huh?”

You didn’t answer – of course you didn’t, you were asleep.

Why the fuck would you answer?

He waited a minute for you to answer anyway.

“I used to collect post-cards as a kid, we didn’t travel much though, it wasn’t a very good fuckin’ collection. I almost sent you one from Miami – what a fucking nightmare of a trip that was.” He whispered, talking to you, wondering if somewhere deep down in dream-land you could hear him.

You just breathed, in and out, drooled on his chest.

“You got me, you know that? You got me real fuckin’ good. I think I’m dying sometimes, when I think about you.” He frowned, not liking how that sounded, “Not in a fuckin’ bad way or nothing. Or maybe it is. I don’t know. This ain’t bad, you ain’t bad. You’re too good. Too good for me, too good for your own good.”

In and out, in and out.

“Sometimes you make me feel like I’m losin’ it. Maybe I am fuckin’ losing it. I don’t know. You make me jumpy, I’m always fuckin’ thinking about you. I’d do anything you want, you know that? Any fucking thing. I’d kill someone for you, no fuckin’ joke. That’s how good you got me.”

He stared out your window, stared at his own, cold apartment.

“You know I didn’t even check my place yet?” He whispered, “I came straight here. Fucking threatened a guy with a tire iron for a parking spot, that’s how fucked you got me. I had to see you, and now look at you, you’re asleep.”

He didn’t need to look back at you to know you were still asleep, so he kept staring out your window.

 

He stared until the sun came up.

 

Stared until you stirred in his arms, and then he blinked, and suddenly the room was filled with golden light, like he had missed the part where it was all fuckin’ bright and pink and pretty, that’s how long he’d been staring.

“Pale?” You beamed up at him, and he found he didn’t miss the sunrise so much.

“The one and only.” He said softly, getting that starstruck fuckin’ feeling again.

You hummed a sleepy laugh, started stretching out on top of him, easing out the sleep from the muscles in your legs, your arms.

You couldn’t get very far, he was holding you too tight. He didn’t want to let you go get, not yet.

He could feel the heat of your cunt from where it pressed against his thigh, let one of his hands roam on over, slip into you.

“Mmm.” You sighed, your eyes closing again, licking your lips as he stroked your pussy.

“Just stay relaxed for me, would ya?” He asked, sliding out from under you.

You buried your face into his pillow, took in big breaths, getting the smell of him. He moved behind you, kneaded your ass in his hands.

His cock was hard, like it always fucking was when you were around, and you were so hot from sleeping that it was practically fucking drooling all over you, begging for you. He didn’t even bother denying it, he lifted your hips and held them as he thrust into you, making you make little gasps from over on the pillow.

Your cunt made the most obscene noises, even more so when he spit onto his dick and fucked it into you, making the drag easier.

“Pale.” You sighed, tucked your calves under you to prop yourself up better for him.

“Fuck, (Y/N).” He mumbled, pushing his hips right up against you, holding you there, holding your ass right in his fucking hands at seven-thirty in the fucking morning.

He was glad he told Jerry he’d not be back for another fucking day or two, glad he didn’t have to stop fucking you.

He fucked you like that, not nearly as hard as he was gonna after breakfast, but hard enough to get you coming all over your bedsheets, hard enough to come in you.

He pulled out, fed his come back into you, pushed it all right back into that fucking cunt of yours. He patted your ass, he was fucking thirsty.

“Good morning.” You grinned at him, blissed out.

“Nine-teen-eighty-fuckin’-eight.” He whistled low, caged you in his arms, hovered over you.

“A whole ‘nother year, can you believe it?” You asked, reaching up to kiss him. You tasted sour, but he didn’t mind, he kissed you back.

“No.” He said, making you smile. He rolled off, stretched his back and his arms, “We gotta use the bathroom, come on.”

“Will you make breakfast?” You asked, lookin’ real fuckin’ pretty with your nipples out and perky like that.

He just had to lean over and kiss at your tits, who the fuck could blame him?

“What kind of rhetorical fuckin’ question is that, of course I’m making breakfast. But you don’t want to fuckin’ sit at the table covered in dried sweat and come, it’ll itch.” He said.

“It’s already itchin’.” You laughed, and he smacked your thigh lightly.

“See?” He pulled you up, you held onto his hand on your way to the bathroom.

He tried not to think about that feeling in his chest.

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s really incon-fucking-venient you don’t have a shower, you know that?” He frowned, wrinkled up his nose at the thought of getting into an entire bath.

He had forgotten for a fucking second, that you didn’t have a shower.

“Yeah I know.” You smiled, settling into the hot water.

You didn’t bother with bubbles, this wasn’t a long fuckin’ soak, this was a scrub-down, and he could at least appreciate that. He climbed in after you, settled behind you, washed your back.

You felt kind of distant, it made him anxious.

“You okay?” He asked, real serious. He could be serious, he was always fuckin’ serious.

“Yeah, I’m okay, promise.” You said taking his hand, his left hand, kissing the knuckles there, not sayin’ nothing about the ring, or lack there of. “Just thinkin’, is all.”

“Thinkin’ about what?” He prompted, letting you hold and kiss his hand.

“Lots of things. I got you something for the holidays.” You smiled at him.

“Why the fuck’d you do that?” He frowned back, making you smile even bigger.

“Because I felt like it. It ain’t nothing big, don’t worry.” You let go of his hand, but he just grabbed yours anyway, his turn to kiss at you.

“I got you something too.” He said, and you rolled your eyes, he could practically hear you callin’ him a fuckin’ hypocrite.

“We can have a good ol’ fashioned exchange.” You hummed happily.

“After breakfast?” He asked, with a raised eyebrow. He needed to go down to his fucking car and get everything for you, it was a lot of stuff.

“Yeah, what’re you making?” You asked, and he splashed you with some water, trying to wipe the smug grin off your face.

 

It didn’t work.

He didn’t mind.

 

The two of you stayed in the tub until you were clean and impatient, toweled off and shrugged into clean underwear. Pale tugged a wife-beater on, briefs and a pair of socks, it was fuckin’ cold in your kitchen. You were wearing one of his shirts, and he had to kiss you for it, just fucking had to.

“You like tea?” He asked against your lips, kissing the corner of your mouth before going on a hunt in the cabinets for a kettle.

“I don’t drink it that much, not as much as coffee.” You said, and he liked that about you, liked that you were honest like that. “But yeah, I like it.”

“It’s calm, you know? Good to start the year off with calm.” He said, all sorts of shit clanging around in the cabinets as he pulled out one of those old-fashioned-whistle-on-the-stove kinds of kettles.  

“You started the year off with come.” You said, a big cheesy smile on your face.

“You think you’re real fuckin’ funny, don’t you?” He asked, fighting a smile of his own.

“You’re laughing, ain’t ya?” You asked, and fuck, he did let out one then.

“Come here and put that mouth to good use.” He said, putting the kettle on the stove.

It was gonna need some time to heat up anyway, and you looked too good sitting in his fucking shirt like that.

He was thinkin’ you were gonna just come over and kiss him, so when you sank down to your knees and rubbed your face all over the front of his fuckin’ briefs, he had to almost steel himself against the counter with how hard he got so fucking fast.

Looking up at him, you tugged his underwear down his thighs, wasting no time at all sucking him off.

You were an actual fucking angel, he decided, right then and there. An angel with a tongue sent straight from Heaven.

He took a fistful of your hand and held your head in place, but you weren’t in any hurry or nothin’, sucking his dick and drooling all over yourself.

“I’m gonna fuck your throat.” He announced, and you hummed around him, opened your throat for him, stuck your tongue out for him.

He thrust lazily into your throat, wished he could see the way it looked bulging out your neck as he did, but the way your eyes shut and the corner of your mouth lifted was good enough for him – it was more than fucking good enough.

He fucked your mouth until he was close to coming, and then backed off, letting you suck and suck and lick and kiss his cock and his balls and scratch at his thighs until he was there, painting your smiling mouth and cheeks.

The kettle whistled, startling you.

“Tea time?” You asked, wiping your face with the back of your hand.

“Yeah,” he replied, dazed, “Tea time.”

 

 

He kept you in bed all fucking day, fucked you for most of it.

He just couldn’t get enough of you – didn’t want to. He’d never ever fucking get tired of this, get used to it, the feeling of your skin on his, the faces you made for him and the noises he ripped out of your throat.

You were so loud for him, doing all the right fucking things that drove him wild – you drove him _wild,_ did you know that? Did you know? He didn’t know, he was balls-deep and he didn’t fucking know anything.  

He was fucking you when there was a pounding on the front door, kept fucking you still, thinking it was just the headboard – how’d you not put a fucking hole in the wall yet?

The banging didn’t stop, but it was clearly aggravating you just as much as it was him, so he slowed his hips enough – not all the fucking way, but enough – to try and pay attention.

“What the fuck is that?” He asked, looking down at you.

You were covering your face, mortified.

“Oh my god, Pale – I think that’s the neighbor.” You said, trying not to burst into a fit of embarrassed laughter.

“Neighbor?” Pale asked, and then he laughed, making you laugh then, freely.

He swore he never fucking laughed this much during sex – wasn’t so sure he hadn’t laughed this much _ever._

“Yeah, Eric, he normally works day shifts, I guess he’s home for the holiday.” You burned, the mood practically destroyed with each fuckin’ bang on the front door.

“Fuck this – ” He sucked his teeth, pulling out of you cold turkey and rummaging around the floor for his briefs.

“Pale!” You gasped, watching him storm out the room.

He heard you yank the sheet off the bed, saw you wrap it around yourself through his peripheral vision as he made his way to the pounding front fuckin’ door.

He yanked it open, coming face to face with a pasty brown-haired guy that was maybe half Pale’s fuckin’ size.

The guy, Eric, immediately gulped, clearly not expecting _him_.

“Hey man, I’m glad you two are having a good fuckin’ time over here but you gotta knock it the fuck off, it’s one in the afternoon. We’re trying to have lunch.” Poor fuckin’ guy tried to stand his ground.

Unlucky for him, Pale didn’t like that attitude too much.

“What the fuck you say to me?” He asked, clenching his jaw.

Eric must have just fuckin’ noticed the state of things, and awkwardly looked away – served him right, bastard coming over to ruin the fuckin’ party.

“Jesus could you put some clothes on?” He asked, and Pale glared.

“Listen pal, go back to your fuckin’ apartment before I make you regret this little fuckin’ interruption.” He said, tall and unmoving as a fucking mountain. “Me and (Y/N) were having a real nice time before you decided to get off your flat ass and walk over to our door and bang on it like you were some fuckin’ fireman checking for a heads-up. You ever heard of ringing the fuckin’ doorbell? You tellin’ me you’re so fuckin’ uncivilized that not only do you gotta interrupt a man fucking his woman, but you don’t even have the decency to ring the doorbell?”

“I don’t mean no fuckin’ trouble, it’s just embarrassing hearing all the fuckin’ yelling.” Eric said, blushin’ real bright.

“You got a girl?” Pale clicked his tongue, growing impatient.

“What?” Eric asked, dumb.

“What?’ A wife, a girlfriend, a fucking fuck buddy?” He snapped.

“Yeah I got a wife.” Eric gulped.

“Then why the fuck are you standing here instead of eatin’ her pussy, huh?” He asked, and you groaned.

“Pale, oh my god.” You covered your face, had to leave the room you were gonna start laughing so fucking hard.

Pale wasn’t laughing. He was pissed he wasn’t coming all over your tits right now.

“Maybe if you made your old lady yell half as loud, we wouldn’t fuckin’ be here, huh?” He sneered at Eric, before slamming the door in his face.

“Pale! You’re gonna get me evicted I swear to god.” You shook your head from the living room.

“Yeah? So what, you’re too good for this fucking place anyway.” He sucked his teeth, tugged your hand and walked into the bedroom. “Come on, we’re gonna have a little fun…”

 

Soon he was fucking you harder and faster than he had, making a real big show of it, making you shout and yell and slamming the fucking headboard against the wall, pounding against the concrete with his fucking fists.

“Fuck! God you’re so fucking good.” He panted, holding your jaw and licking your teeth.

“Oh – oh!” You could barely get any words out, that’s how fucking hard he was ramming his cock into you.

“Say my name, you whore, come on say it!” He couldn’t keep his own grunts and groans quiet, the effort from fucking you alone had his throat raw.

“Pale! You’re so fucking good – I’m your whore, yours Pale.” You shouted, an angel an angel an angel, all for him, his fucking whore, his girl, his his his.

“You fuckin’ hear that? You hear that 5-A? You fucking hear that 5-B? 5-D?” He shouted, the veins in his fucking neck popping from the volume of it.

“Pale you’re going to get the cops called on us.” You laughed, burying your face into his neck, moaning high and loud as he railed you.

“So what, let them come, I’ll fuck you right in front of them.” He sneered, eyes lighting up when he felt you clench real fuckin’ hard around him. “Oh, you like that? Dirty girl, you like giving shows, that’s right, that’s fuckin’ right, isn’t it?”

“Fuck.” You blushed, and fuckin’ _bingo._

“Maybe I’ll invite them over, make em watch as I fuck you right in front of them, spread your fucking pussy for them – they can look but they can’t fucking touch, ain’t that right?” He was sweating, always so fucking sweaty, he bit down on your jaw.

“Yeah, only you Pale.” You nodded, before another loud cry slipped outta your lips, making him smirk.

“God you’re so fucking sexy, you know that? Perfect fucking slut, fuck.” He couldn’t look at you without coming right on the fucking spot, wanted to make sure you got to first, had to warn you “I’m gonna come in you and you’re gonna fuckin’ thank me for it, you got that?”

“I got it – Pale, let me come? Please?” You begged, sounded so fuckin’ pretty when you begged.

“Say it louder honey.” He said, and you smiled, smiled so wide for him.

“Can I come? Please let me come.” You yelled, breaking into a laugh that he muffled with a hand over your mouth.

“Go ahead.” He grunted, grinding into you hard and fast, and you came

“Fuck – ”

“Oh shit.” He came with you, and he slapped his fucking hand against the wall one last time before his muscles shook from the thrill of the whole fucking thing, and he fell down on top of you, the two of you breathing real hard.

“Thank you, thank you Pale.” You said, dizzy, blissed out and fucking perfect.

“Anything for you doll.” He found himself saying, anything anything.

 

* * *

 

 

“I got your voicemails.” You said, a long time later.

It was well into the afternoon, the two of you alternating between eating, dozing off in the sunlight, and fucking like rabbits.

You looked good in the sun, looked good in general. He missed bein’ able to look at you, drank in the sight of you. He was so thirsty.

He smoked a cigarette, the nicotine soothing his nerves, how the fuck was he so relaxed and so fucking jumpy at the same time?

“Some of them weren’t too pretty, huh?” He finally said.

The voicemails were the only fucking thing keeping him sane, down in Miami.

Down in Miami, that should be the name of a fuckin’ movie, he thought.

Down down down. He’d been real down. Yellin’ and fighting and yellin’ some more. In lows and wives and kids and aunts and uncles, it was too fuckin’ hot in Miami.

He’d done too much coke, down in Miami. That sounded like a line to a song.

Maybe he was losing it.

“I liked hearing your voice, I wish I coulda called you back.” You said, and he sighed. He wished you coulda called him too.

“I couldn’t risk her picking the fucking phone up.” He explained, but you just nodded.

“I know, I know.” You said, real gracious – you had always been so gracious about him, about his fucking mistakes and his fuck-ups.

He wondered what went on in your head, how you rationalized all of it. He didn’t think he’d ever find anyone like you, anyone that liked him like you liked him. You made him dizzy, he told you that once, didn’t he? You were always too gracious, too sweet, making him dizzy.

Miami had been bad, but maybe it wasn’t Miami. Maybe he’d take you down there and bring you to the beach and rub sunscreen all over you and fuck you real good while the sun set over the ocean. Maybe he’d show you where he threw his fucking ring over the pier, maybe he’d see some loser with a fuckin’ metal detector finding it, fishing it out of the ocean. It wasn’t worth much or nothin’ there were no diamonds on it, it was just the silver band.

But it was at the bottom of the fucking ocean now, and he was here, in your bed, and you were kissing his neck real sweet, too sweet.

“Catch me up, what’d I fuckin’ miss while I was sweating my ass off down there?” He asked, tucking some of your loose hair behind your ear, pinching playfully at your earlobe.

“Nothin’ much. Went to work, came home.” You shrugged.

“That’s all?” He frowned, that couldn’t be all.

“That’s all.” You shrugged again, and he gave you a stare that brooked no fuckin’ argument, making you sigh. “Well, there was this thing, with Marty.”

 

His blood ran cold.

 

“I’ll kill him.” He went real still real fast, mind already spinning.

“No, I’m okay, he was flirtin’, that’s all. Wouldn’t quit it. I didn’t like the way he was talking about you.” You frowned, and he sat up real fast, the room spinning.

 _Flirting._ He was _flirting_ with you, that no good son of a bastard fucking bitch –

“What’d he say about me?” He asked, jaw clenched and eyebrows knit.

The universe was hell fucking bent on pissing him off today, wasn’t it?

“Nothing but bullshit.” You said, frowning too. Pale didn’t like it when you frowned like that, made your forehead all creased up, made your big eyes angry. No one was supposed to fucking make you angry.

“He touch you?” Pale asked, quiet, so quiet, like if he spoke he’d scream. Maybe he would scream.

“Tried holding my hand.” You nodded.

He snapped.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” He snarled, and threw the covers off of him.

His blood was pounding in his ears, he could only think about one fucking thing at a time but a hundred different fucking thoughts came at him all at once.

What if he had hurt you?

Did he make you cry?

He had to teach the fucking punk a lesson, but first he had to find his fucking pants.

He picked up the wrinkled pair that he had thrown down the night before, the pleats were all wrong but it didn’t fucking matter because he was about to get blood all over them anyway. Where was his shirt? No shirt no shoes no service.

“Hey, why don’t you kiss me a little first, huh? Calm you down some.” You tried, bless you you fuckin’ tried, but he wasn’t having it.

He found his shirt, angry, so fucking angry – he goes away for two god damned weeks and the scum of the earth thinks it can run fuckin’ wild and free, not on his watch, not now that he was fucking back.

“Is he downstairs?” Pale asked, careful not to be harsh with you, careful to be gentle.

He didn’t want you to be afraid of him, but fuck he couldn’t stop, he had to do something – had to teach Marty not to touch what was his.

“Of course he’s downstairs.” You said, not sounding afraid.

Thank god for that, Pale thought.

“I’ll kiss you later, we’re gonna go have a little fuckin’ chat with him.” Pale scowled, leaning in to kiss you anyway.

You looped your arms around his neck and he kissed you and you kissed him and and and. He was shaking, shaking from rage, he wished he were drunk, or high, or maybe that he could just keep kissing you. He had to beat the shit out of Marty – fucking Marty.

“Pale you can’t go killing the deli guy, who’s gonna make our sandwiches if you do?” You asked, and he laughed, how were you so perfect?

“I can fucking make them.” He said, smiling and kissing you before the smile dropped and he was shoving his feet into his fucking boots and you were scrambling to get dressed while he stormed downstairs.

 

The deli was thankfully, empty. It was Friday, but it was just before the fucking dinner rush.

Marty glared at him through the fucking window, and Pale shoved the door open with a little more force than necessary. Maybe he slammed it a little too hard, maybe. Who fucking cares, he thought. Two seconds later you showed up, lookin’ real pretty with your hair pinned up and in whatever decent clothes you had close-by. Pale opened the door softer for you, held it for you as you walked in, held his hand in your own.

Marty didn’t like that, didn’t like the look of you standing with your hand in his, so he turned to leave, but Pale wasn’t having none of that.

“Hey!” He called to get Marty’s attention, fuming, absolutely fucking seething with rage. “You fuckin’ botherin’ my girl?”

That got his attention, and he spun on his heel, lookin’ incredulous in a stupid way.

“Since when is she _your_ girl?” Marty demanded, a crazed look in his eye.

Pale was smart enough to know all the fuckin’ ways this guy probably knew how to butcher something, but he was also mad enough to not give a shit. He gave your hand a squeeze without even realizing it, detangled your fingers from his own so he could walk right up to the counter.

“Since always, dipshit – now listen, I’m a real reasonable fuckin’ guy, so I’m only gonna break your face into two pieces instead of two-fucking-hundred, you got that?” He asked, cracking his knuckles.

“What – ” Marty didn’t even get a fucking sentence out before Pale had grabbed him by the apron, and was hauling him over the counter, away from the fucking knives and the machines that could probably take his head off.

He hadn’t gotten into a good ol’ fashioned fist fight in a couple of months, he was itching all over from it, crazy, he felt crazy.

The first punch landed right in Marty’s gut, his stomach tensing but not having enough muscle to do much about it. He went reeling, doubling over from the pain of it.

The second punch was right to his fucking face, right on the cheek – he’d knock out a couple fucking teeth if he were lucky.

Marty managed to get a couple hits in, staggering to his feet and throwing his fists wildly, they were uncoordinated, he was clear he didn’t know how to fucking fight. He did get a couple hits, right in Pale’s side and an upper-cut that knocked his jaw up a little, but Pale just went feral on him, beat his face into oblivion.

Pale couldn’t focus on anything, too focused on everything all at once. He pushed and shoved Marty into shelves, up against the counter, choked him and punched him and punched him and punched him. Even kneed him in the fucking stomach, knocked the wind right out of him.

“I told you he wasn’t gonna like it.” You said, leaning against the door, blocking the view from anyone seeing or coming in.

Pale grabbed Marty by the front of his now very stained apron, pointed his face in the direction of where you were standing.

“She don’t want you to fucking touch her, you don’t touch her. She don’t want to flirt with you, you don’t fucking flirt with you, you got that?” He seethed.

“Fuck you, you piece of shit.” Marty spit blood out onto the floor, onto his own fucking floor – now Pale had seen a lot of poor restaurant practices, but that one took the fucking cake as far as he was concerned – before glaring at you. “Aren’t you gonna fucking do something?”

He didn’t mean that to be to you, did he? He had a whole ‘nother fucking thing coming if he thought he was going to fucking talk to _you_ like that.

You shook your head, shrugged at him, and Pale growled low in his fucking throat, “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”

He had half a mind to snap the man’s fucking neck, but he settled on bashing Marty’s head into the counter and letting him fall to the ground unbalanced.

If he went any further, he’d kill him.

He looked back at you, still standing there, just watching, wary. You didn’t run away yet, didn’t call him dangerous, didn’t tell him you were afraid of him, not yet anyway. He took Marty’s dishtowel and wiped his hands down, decided not to kill him.

Instead, he looked Marty dead in the fucking eye as he picked the phone off the wall, dialed 9-1-1.

“Operator? Yeah, there’s been some kind of fight here – yeah sure thing, no he’s okay, just a little beat up.” He answered the questions the woman on the other end of the line asked, and then hung up.

He took out a stack of hundred dollar bills and went around the counter, stuck it in the fucking register.

“Don’t fuck with her again.” He said, jabbing a finger in his fucking direction.

Marty nodded, sitting up. He really wasn’t _that_ beat up, just had some nasty bruising and maybe a broken fucking nose. Big deal, who didn’t have a broken nose every once in a while?

“We cool?” Pale asked, and Marty nodded again.

“Yeah, we’re cool.” Marty said, “Sorry (Y/N).”

“It’s alright Marty.” You replied, reaching your hand out to Pale.

The fucking knuckles were split, and he knew your medicine cabinet didn’t have everything he needed to stitch them back up, which meant –

“Come on, let’s go.” He said, taking your hand in his, leading you out of the deli.

No one on the streets had known nothin’, not one single person bothered to look or to care. Pale crossed the street, actually fucking waited for the little green man to pop up on the sign so you wouldn’t get hit by a fuckin’ car – no one knows how to drive in this damn city – crossed the street and held your hand and tried to breathe.

“Where are we going?” You asked, confused.

“To my place.” He sighed, and you immediately perked up with interest, about to ask probably a thousand questions – and rightfully so – but he put a hand up, “When we get inside, okay? I’m bleeding all over the fuckin’ sidewalk.”

“Everyone bleeds on the sidewalk sometimes.” You shrugged, but you were smiling, and you weren’t running from him, or crying, or hurt, or angry, and that’d what mattered to Pale in that moment.

So much for starting the year off with calm, he thought, but with the way you were smiling at him, the way you held onto his arm like you were his date at some big fucking gala, the way you helped him push the button on the elevator, the way you just _were,_ he knew things were going to be okay.

 


	6. Classical

The apartment was, in a word, _modern._ Like straight out of a magazine. You had seen into it, sure, from your window, but you’d only had glimpses here and there of Pale’s place.

It was so bright, you thought, the windows letting crisp light into the open floorplan. Flooded with light. Almost overwhelming, you thought.

The walls were white, the floor was marble. All the furniture was black and sleek and chrome. There were big paintings on the walls, grand abstracts in muted shades of beige and creams.

It felt cold, you thought.

Pale was grumbling to himself, something about “getting blood all over the fuckin’ floors” as the heels of his boots clicked against the tile of the main entryway.

He turned around a corner and was gone, you figured he went to the bathroom to clean himself up.

You’d go follow him in a minute you decided, you first wanted a chance to snoop around his place – after all, he had broken into yours and invaded your privacy more times than you could count, not that you minded.

You hung in the doorway for a moment, before wandering around the open floor.

The kitchen looked professional, state of the art appliances.

There were squeaky clean counters and cabinets and an island right in the middle. There were kitchen items placed around the room, a blender, a tea pot, all sorts of jars and containers of spices or who knows what… but it didn’t look like it had been used. In fact the whole place looked like it was some display in a museum, like it was an idea of what a kitchen should be, as opposed to someone’s real kitchen as it was.

You could see the white plaque in your head now, _Interior Design, New York, 1988._

The amount of alcohol on the counter was impressive, it was as if he was runnin’ a full bar with all the crystal and top shelf shit he had. You wondered if he entertained a lot before he moved to New York, to your little corner of Queens, or if he was just an alcoholic.

Either way, you walked over to it, picked up a bottle of brandy.

“VSOP.” You read softly with a smile before setting the bottle back down.

 

An entertainment system was the star of the living room. Biggest fucking TV screen you’d ever seen outside of a movie theater, but what was more impressive were the speakers.

Five big speakers were set up around the room, two in the front corners of the room, two in the back corners, and one right underneath a big home unit. It could play everything it looked like – there was a slot for VHS tapes, cassette tapes, even had a little turntable for LPs.

Pale had shelves lining the wall with all sorts of music, vinyl records and cassette tapes as far as the eye could see. You ran your hand along the wall as you tried to pick some names out, but the way they were stacked you could only see the thin spines of the cover art, not much else.

You walked back to the stereo unit, pushed the little green ‘play’ triangle, and the apartment suddenly came alive.

“Shit!” You gasped, startled by the loud music filling the air, absolutely surrounding you.

You thought recognized the piece, but it was in the middle of the song so you weren’t entirely sure. Your heart was beating though, the volume of the music so overwhelmingly loud and so sudden. You didn’t know how to shut the music off and immediately panicked, twisting whatever random dials you could find, to no avail.

“Jesus, you tryin’ to give me a fuckin’ heart attack or somethin’?” Pale said behind you, making you jump.

Before you could say anything, he was reaching around you and turning the volume way down low.

“You like classical?” You asked with a laugh, feeling silly.

He looked at you funny for a second, before going back and readjusting all the dials and skipping tracks to something more peaceful, less frantic and heavy than the song that had been playing previously.

“Of course I fuckin’ like classical. Who doesn’t? You know it’s the most human fuckin’ kind of music, classical. Always thought so. No words, no lyrics, just feelings. Just emotions. Very powerful fuckin’ thing, emotions, music, the whole thing. You can close your eyes and feel somethin’ and someone else a thousand miles away can close their eyes too and they’ll feel somethin’ too. You don’t know that person, you don’t speak their language, but you both feel somethin’ listening to that. Someone wrote that a hundred years ago and you’re listenin’ to it now, feelin’ something. Ain’t that fuckin’ crazy?”

He had stepped back, hands crossed over his chest, looking at you the way he did, really _lookin’_ at you.

“Pretty crazy.” You agreed with a big smile, and he pinched your cheek, swooped down for a kiss before he and his boots made their way over to the kitchen.

“What was that? It sounded familiar but I can’t place it.” You followed him into the kitchen, leaning against the island.

“That’s because I fuckin’ wrote it.” He licked his teeth, making your eyebrows shoot up. “Wrote that about a good ten fuckin’ years ago. Managed to snag a full orchestra and everything. The acoustics in here don’t do it justice, but neither does that tape frankly. I always fuckin’ said we needed better microphones in the damn concert hall but no one ever fuckin’ listens to me, do they?”

“You compose?” You asked, surprised. You didn’t think that that was somethin’ he had any interest in, but something about it made sense.

“Yeah I compose. Had to do something artistic as a kid, parents didn’t want us growin’ up to be thugs or nothin’. Look how well that turned out.” Pale rolled his eyes, poured himself a finger of whiskey and threw it back.

“You’re not a thug.” You smiled, reaching out for him. “Is your hand okay?”

He immediately put his hand in yours, rushed to give it to you in that desperate way of his, desperate to touch you.

“Yeah it’ll be fine. You okay? You not mad at me or nothin’?” He asked, real serious.

“Why would I be mad?” You asked back, giving his hand a squeeze, kissing the knuckles that he had wrapped up.

“Because I smashed your Marty’s face into next fuckin’ week.” He said, frowning all sour as he smacked his lips, licked the last drops of the whiskey off them.

“First of all he ain’t _my_ Marty. He just works downstairs, promise.” You said, looking up at him. “I don’t mind anything about anything, you know? I like you just as you are, for all the fucking mess that you are. So what if you get into fights? You were doing right be me, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.” He sniffed, and you smiled.

“So there. Why be mad? You’re a mess, but I’m a mess too. Everyone’s a fucking mess.”

“You’re not a mess, don’t say that.” He frowned but you laughed.

“Of course I am, but it’s okay. We might not have much in the way of having our shit together, but at least we got each other in some small way. That’s gotta count for something, don’t you think?”

He kept looking at you, and you wondered if you had said the wrong thing. You didn’t care, it was the truth, even if he didn’t want to admit it. That was okay, he didn’t have to.

You liked him. Liked this big fuckin’ married man who swore like a sailor and did more coke than he probably should, who drank more than he probably should, who spent more time with you than he probably should.

But he did, and he did, and he _did,_ and fuck it all, you liked him anyway.

“You’re not a mess.” He said again, softer this time.

You only smiled kept kissing his knuckles, held his hand against your mouth and smiled some more.

“Would you dance with me if I asked you to?” You asked, the music coming to an end.

Another song started up. It was perfect just to sway to a little bit, to be held to.

“I’d do anything if you asked me to.” Pale said too casual, like it wasn’t one of those grand declarations he sometimes did.

“Come dance with me then, just for a little bit.” You squeezed his hand again, before going back to the living room, finding him right behind you as always. “Then after I want a tour of the place.”

“You’re real fuckin’ bossy ain’t you?” Pale rolled his eyes, pulled you real close to him, kissed you once.

He slipped a hand around your waist, held yours in the other. You smoothed your free hand across his shoulder, and just had to grin.

“You can’t blame a girl for bein’ curious.” You shrugged, but he only kissed you again.

You maybe weren’t the best dancer in the world, but the song made it easy – Pale made it easy. He was so big, you were always reminded of how solid and warm he was, you just wanted to rest your head on his chest, let your eyes slip closed for a minute or two as he stepped back and forth, taking you with him in lazy circles around the living room.

You opened your eyes right when the song ended, the end of the tape. It was quiet, and the room felt much emptier now.

You wondered if he always had music playing, or if he preferred it quiet.

You wondered a lot of things about him, wondered if he wondered about you.

“Those your kids?” You asked, still pressed right up against him, just happened to face a little dresser pressed up against the wall, framed photos arranged neatly on it.  

“Yeah, I gotta put their new Christmas picture up.” Pale said, his voice rumbling under your ear where you were tucked against his chest.

“They don’t look like you.” You said.

You didn’t really see any of Pale’s features in the kids, but they looked happy. You thought it was sweet he had pictures of them. No pictures of his wife though, on the little dresser anyway.

“Yeah, go figure.” Pale said, “They don’t want nothin’ to do with me anyway.”

“They don’t know what they’re missing.” You shrugged.

He chuckled, and you smiled.

He kissed you.

 

When the song ended he turned the home unit off, let the last notes hang in the air, bouncing around the walls.

Without any sort of warning he just started walking away, and you immediately followed.

“You’ve already seen the kitchen and the living room, but here’s the dining room.” He said casually, gesturing to the large rectangular table that could probably seat ten people if he wanted them to.

“Why do you eat in front of the stove when you’ve got such a big table?” You couldn’t help but ask, remembering back to the first few days of watching him from your window, how he would always scarf down a bowl of cereal before dashing out the door.

“Because it’s too fuckin’ big.” He said with a bit of a shrug, and your heart hurt.

_Too big when no one sits at it_ , you could almost hear him saying.

 

You rounded a corner and all of a sudden were faced with a baby grand piano, all shiny sleek and dark stained wood, right in the middle of the room.

“Wow.” You said, unable to hold back how impressed you were with it. You didn’t recognize the maker, but it was stunning nonetheless.

“Do you play?” He asked, head cocked all interested.

You blushed, shrugged.

“I know the opening to Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.” You said, and he groaned.

“Go fuckin’ figure – Mozart.” He grumbled, making you laugh brightly.

“You don’t like Mozart?” You crossed your arms over your chest, walked over to the piano.

You lifted the keylid, played half a minute’s worth of music just to spite him. Your fingers were clumsy, but well, that wasn’t the point.

He was watching you with hungry eyes, it made you hot. Everything about this was making you hot.

“Nah, he’s overplayed.” He sneered, waved a hand around and walked over to join you, sitting down at the bench.

Your pulse quickened, eager to hear him.

“Who do you like then?” You asked, resting your hands on his shoulders, standing behind him.

“Beethoven.” He shrugged, easy breezy, like Beethoven wasn’t just as well known as Mozart.

“Play some Beethoven.” You said, a bit of a teasing dare to your voice.

He turned to look at you, but you smiled at him, and he rolled his eyes. Cracking his knuckles and making a whole big show of straightening his back, he let his hands hover over the keys for a moment or two…before tapping out the first few notes of Fur Elise, and shutting the lid.

“You think you’re real funny, don’t you?” You laughed, and he was up in an instant, kissing and kissing you.

“You’re laughin’, ain’t ya?” He asked, echoing something you had said ages and ages ago.

He pinched your chin in his fingers and slid his tongue into your mouth, before pulling away, walking away from the piano.

 

“Bathroom, office, and bedroom.” Pale said, waving a hand to each respective room.

The bedroom was impressive, how was it so _big?_ Maybe it wasn’t even that big, maybe it was just in comparison to your room that it felt massive.

You sat down on the king sized bed, laid down on your back and spread your arms out wide. There was still room enough on each side for you, your hands weren’t hanging off the mattress like they would at home.

“Shit Pale, and you’ve been fucking me in my shitty room this whole time?” You asked, mostly joking. You knew he had his reasons, you knew.

“Don’t fuckin’ say that. Your room is nice.” He grumbled, stepping out of his boots at the door. You realized you should’ve probably kicked yours off too, but he was already walking over to you, already climbing on top of you, caging you in his arms. “Yours is cozy. I like it a lot fuckin’ better than here.”

“We don’t have to stay, if you don’t want. We can go back to mine.” You said, letting your hands slide under his shirt and jacket, smooth up his back.

You knew he needed to come back here out of necessity, but now that his hand was all wrapped, it didn’t matter much where you went. If he preferred your place, you didn’t mind leaving this comfortable bed.

Surprisingly, he shook his head, started kissing at your neck.

“Nah, now that I’ve got you here…” He sat back a little, shrugged out of his clothes, hands at the clasps and buttons of your own random clothes you had pulled on chasing Pale out of the apartment, “I figure why the fuck not break in the apartment the good ol’ fuckin’ fashioned way?”

You grinned.

Of course he’d want to get in between your legs, you thought.

You nodded, helped him get you naked, just the way he liked. You liked how his blankets felt under you, liked the feeling of the satin sheets against your back, on your hair.

The sun was starting to set, the orange light from the big bright sun making the whole room warm.

Pale stepped out of his pants, tugged his briefs down before getting his hands all over you, grabbing at you the way he did.

He reached over on his bedside table, pulled out a little vial, tipped a bit of coke out right onto your chest, right on the smooth place between your tits. His nose tickled as he snorted it up.

“You gonna be good for me?” He asked, arranging your legs how he wanted, and you nodded, eager.

“Aren’t I always?” You asked back. You could tell he wanted to smile, but he just grabbed at your jaw, pried your mouth open instead.

“Suck.” He said, pressing a couple fingers into your mouth, rubbing them against your tongue.

You licked and sucked on them enough to get them wet, drooling all over them, so much so that when he pulled away there were little strands of spit hanging from his fingers, stuck to your lips.

He wasted very little time in shoving them into your cunt, rubbing at your walls, stroking your pussy from the inside out.

You moaned, sighed real happy for him, unafraid of neighbors pounding on the wall. He had such a look of concentration on his face, his eyebrows pinched together like he was angry.

He fingered you until your cunt was making squelching noises from how wet it was, until your thighs started to shake with anticipation.

“Please, Pale,” You said, pushing your hips up into his hand, “Please give me your cock.”

“You want it?” He asked, baring his teeth at you in that way of his, making you hot hot hot all over.

“Yeah.” You said, were ready to beg, you’d beg if he wanted you to.

He didn’t ask you to, just lined himself up and pressed into you, didn’t stop until he was all the way in, hips flush with yours.

Still after all the fucking, after all the time spent in bed together, he was still _big._ The stretch of him burned in all the right ways, especially when he readjusted himself and the head of his cock knocked against your cervix, making you cry around.

“You’re so fucking tight,” He pushed you up the bed with his hips, his thighs tensing as he supported his weight on his arms, still caging you, “Perfect fucking whore. Say it.”

“I’m a whore, your whore.” You said right away, arching your chest, pushing your tits against him. “Fuck me Pale, please, I need it.”

And did he ever deliver.

He groaned, began thrusting his hips hard. He was never gentle, but you never wanted him to be. You wanted him to make you moan and cry and beg, and he always always did.

He was all grunts and groans and hard pants against your neck, pushing and moving in and out of you, his cock filling you up and up and up.

“You fucking like it?” He asked, and asked, and you nodded, moaned for him.

“Yeah, I like it, I like it Pale – Pale!” You sucked in a breath right as he bit down onto your shoulder, sunk his teeth there.

You had bite marks all over you, big red splotches hidden behind sweaters. You didn’t know what you were going to fucking do when springtime came around, how you were going to cover yourself up without getting heatstroke then.

“You’re my fucking slut.” He growled, sucking a dark hickey to your throat.

“I’m yours Pale, only yours.” You agreed, grasped at his hair, at his strong slippery biceps.

You turned your head and kissed a beauty spot right on his arm, before he occupied your mouth with his own.

The bed didn’t so much as squeak underneath you, but you moaned, fogged up the inside of the glass windows, made your mark on the place.

He was so sweaty, it felt like a sauna above you, sweat dripping down onto your face and tits. He watched it, watched them bounce, took one hand and smeared it into your skin, held your mouth open and let droplets land on your tongue, falling from his hair and nose.

You let him, you loved it, wanted it.

He fucked you hard, so hard, you could feel yourself bruising from the inside hard.

“I’m gonna fucking come all over you.” He said, scowling. “I’m gonna come on those tits.”

“Do it, come on me – come on me Pale.” You breathed, getting so close, so so close to coming.

He could tell, he was getting real good at being able to tell, and he fucked you hard, leaned down to suck on one of your nipples, made you come on his cock.

Every time it was mind-blowing, how good of an orgasm he gave you. He’d been fucking you all day with magic stamina, but each time it was just as good. Everything was fuzzy, you were almost dizzy with it. The light behind your eyelids was so warm, every single fiber and cell on your body was buzzing; you felt like you had fireworks in your nerves.

You were so wrapped up in your own head that you didn’t even notice him pull out, take his cock in his hand and come all over your tits, pearly and sticky and salty on your chest.

You cracked an eye open once you felt him smearing it all over you, mixing with your sweat and his sweat, smudging it into your skin.

He was breathing hard, and you let your hands come up around him, hug him close to you. You didn’t even care about the sticky gross noise that his skin made when it stuck to yours from his own come, just wanted to hold him.

It had been a fucking wild twenty-four hours.

Your stomach growled really loud right then, and you could feel Pale huff a laugh against your neck.

“Give me a fuckin’ minute, we’ll clean up and I’ll make you something to eat.” He said, a hand on your stomach, giving it a light pat before rolling off of you.

You smiled, content.

You turned to face the windows, when realization struck you.

“That’s my apartment.” You said.

In hindsight, that was stupid, because of course that was your apartment. You’d just never seen it from this angle before, never saw it how Pale saw it. You wondered if he thought it was strange seeing his own place from your room, that first time.

It felt so far away, but maybe that was just because you were so happy to be with Pale, the whole rest of the world felt far away.

“Yeah it is, perfect fuckin’ view of you from my room, ain’t it?” Pale sighed, struck up a cigarette, the smoke hanging lazily in the air. “Don’t you get why I had to have you? Lookin’ into your windows every god damned day, you teasin’ me like the whore you are.”

He breathed out of his nose, and you smiled.

“Don’t forget, I can see into yours too.” You pointed out.

You were just as responsible for all this as he was, in fact you were the one who started this whole thing.

He did smile then, smiled and smoked his cigarette.

 

 

You cleaned up, used the bathroom, even took a quick shower before you found yourself wrapped up in the biggest, softest robe you’d ever felt.

He didn’t tell you where or when he got it, didn’t tell you nothing, just handed over the thing and told you to put it on. It had the initial of your first name embroidered right on the breast. You smiled.

You sat at his dining table, wearing nothing but the robe and the gold chain – you hadn’t taken it off once, Pale did something very close to blushing when you told him – and ate his dinner.

He sat next to you, an arm around your shoulder, and you thought this was the most domestic thing you’d ever done in your life. You decided to keep that sentiment to yourself.

“It’s getting late.” You said, nodding over to the windows.

The sun had gone down officially, and the light from the streetlamps was sending soft shadows all over. The little digital clock on the wall read it was getting close to midnight.

“You gotta go into work tomorrow?” He asked, smoking his cigarette and taking a big gulp of brandy.

“Yeah, Fish only let me take the day off. I don’t gotta be there right at six though.” You replied, feeling bummed. You didn’t want to leave him just yet.

“Let’s go back to your place, go the fuck to sleep. You’re gonna need sleep after all the shit that happened today.” Pale said, blowing smoke all over.

“Okay.” You smiled. You wondered if that was his way of saying he wanted to go to sleep, had to pin it on you so he wouldn’t look too tired.

“Let me take you out tomorrow, huh? You workin’ a double or what?” He asked, chewing on some steak thoughtfully.

“No, but since I’m going in later I should be done around six.” You said around a bite of the potatoes. “Where do you wanna go?”

“I want to take you into the city, give you a good dinner and take you to a show.” He stood up, took his plate to the sink, leaving you in the dining room.

It didn’t matter much, you could still see him across the way.

“Are we taking the subway?” You asked, excited. You liked it, wanted to hop on it again, wanted to ride him in the little rubber seat.

“No, I’m gonna pick you up, we’ll drive over.” He shook his head, making you excited for a different reason altogether.

“I haven’t been in your car yet.” You said, picking your plate up and padding barefoot across the cold tile to join him near the sink.

“Yeah I know, I hate bringing the fucking thing out of the lot. No one knows how to drive here and there’s no god damned parking so what’s even the fuckin’ point?” He took your plate, and you hopped up on the counter of the island.

“We don’t have to take it.” You said, not wanting him to get all worked up after he went and fucked all the energy out of him.

He stood between your thighs, put his hands on your waist and kissed you, real deep and slow, enough to make you sigh against his lips – before pinching your nipples and pulling away.

“Sure we do.” He said, “Now come on, fuckin’ hurry up and put your shoes on, you need some sleep.”

“You want me to cross the street in my robe?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s not even half a fuckin’ block, you’re covered, I’ll fuckin’ cover you the rest of the way.” He huffed.

He must really be tired then, you thought.

 

And he _was,_ head barely hitting your pillow before you could hear soft snores rumbling deep in his chest.

You watched him for a little bit, the best that you could anyway, from the angle you were at. He was laying on his side, had you tucked against him, your nose resting right against his throat.

It was cold outside, bits of new year’s frost hanging on the windows, but you were warm and cozied up against Pale, and even if for only a little bit, you thought you really had started the year off with calm.

 

* * *

 

You had good dreams, for the first time in a long time.

Dreams filled with fucking and laughter and rowboats on central park lake. Of his leather jacket draped over your shoulders as he runs his mouth about the cocksuckers that don’t know how to fuckin’ fish.

Good dreams.

You didn’t know if you were still dreaming, when you woke up.

You were tucked against Pale, as you always were it felt like, but he was talking. Was he talking? Or were you dreaming?

“…and you deserve so much, you fuckin’ know that?” He spoke just above a whisper, just low enough that maybe you couldn’t hear it, maybe you were hallucinating it.

You tried not to make it obvious, didn’t want him to catch you. You kept your breathing even, drooled a little on his throat.

“You’re too good. I fuckin’ mean that. Too good to me, for me. I look at you and I wonder how did I ever get so fuckin’ lucky? So good to me.”

He was crying, you could feel the wetness in your hair, could feel how fast his heart was beating in his chest, right where your sleep-sweaty hand was pressed against it.

“You scare the shit outta me. Abso-fuckin-lutely terrify me. You hold my whole fuckin’ life in your hands and you could throw it away and that’d be the fuckin’ end of me. And then what the fuck would I do?” He whispered, and you almost cried then too.

“Worst fuckin’ part is…I’d let you. God knows I’d let you.” He sighed.

He pet your hair back, kissed the top of your head.

It hit you so strong, all of a sudden, how much you _loved_ him.

You really, truly loved him.

And maybe he loved you too, maybe maybe maybe.

You fell back asleep.

 

* * *

 

Pale wasn’t there when you woke up again.

Didn’t leave a note or nothing, didn’t bother. You knew he’d come pick you up after your shift, and that was enough for you. You had slept in late, he probably had to go into work himself.

 

You took a quick bath, washed your hair and scrubbed your skin so you wouldn’t smell like you’d been having marathon sex, and put on squeaky clean clothes.

 

The diner was back to it’s full rush when you got there right at ten, the excitement over the New Year over.

1988, what a year. It sounded better than 1987, you thought, rolled off the tongue easier.

“Happy new year (Y/N)!” Fishel happily greeted you as you passed Maria who was on her way out.

“Hey Fish! Happy new year.” You gave him a kiss on the cheek, took your apron and hat out of your cubby and immediately started the coffee pots brewing. “Did you and Chaya do anything to celebrate?”

“Yeah, took her to a real nice French place outta town.” He said, pride in his voice. You loved how much Fish loved his wife, they had been together for over fifty years, and you could tell it was fifty years of pure affection.

There weren’t that many French places in town though, unless you went into the city, and you knew Fish wasn’t a fan of the subway.

“Oh yeah? Which one?” You asked, curious, wondering if it was –

“La Rêverie, ever been there?” He asked, making you laugh.

“No kidding! Yeah I’ve been there, I know…a guy who works there.” You weren’t sure what to call Pale, if you were allowed to call him anything.

Maybe you’d ask him tonight at dinner.

You remembered how he had called you _his girl,_ how he had said you were _his woman._ Maybe he was your man too.

“Your man, right? Pale?” Fish asked, seemingly making the decision for you. “I thought I’d seen him there before once or twice, he’s a real big fella, hard to miss.”

Fish put two brunch orders up on the counter and rang the little bell, and you went right to work, taking them over to Mark or Mike or whatever his name was’ table.

“Yeah he is.” You said over your shoulder, continuing the conversation with Fish as you handed menus to some more people who just walked in.

“He wasn’t there for New Years though.” Fish said with a smile.

“He better not have been, he spent the holiday with me.” You laughed again, handing out more menus and seating more people.

You took a couple orders, walked the tickets back over to the pickup window for Fish and the cooks to take.

“Good, you were worrying me there for a minute.” Fishel said with a smile.

“Fish don’t you worry about me, you got too much to worry about as it is.” You reassured him, checking the coffee pots.

They were just about finished, and you anxiously tapped your fingers on the counter, watching the pots fill up as more people came into the diner.

“I know I know, but you’re family, and I don’t like seeing family so glum the way you were.” He said sincerely, and you wanted to give him a big hug.

You were kind of embarrassed how sad Pale being gone had made you, you thought you had done a pretty good job of keeping it together, but evidently not. In any case, you had customers, and you knew Fish was busy enough without talking to you about men that may or may not be yours.

“Speaking of family, did you ever call back your brother?” You asked, which did the trick of having the old man throw his hands up at you good-naturedly, retreating back into the kitchen.

“Oh go pour coffee why don’t ya.” He grumbled, and you laughed, doing just that.

 

* * *

 

Like a blink of an eye, six o’clock showed up.

And right on time, so did Pale.

The little bell of the front door rang, and you looked up from the counter you were wiping down to see his broad shoulders making their way towards you.

“You’re very punctual.” You said, before he pulled you close to him and stuck his tongue down your throat. He tasted like cigarettes, it was bitter and sharp and you moaned against it.

“Time is money sweetheart.” He said when he broke the kiss, not caring one bit about the family right across the diner making faces. “You all good to get the fuck out of here?”

“Yeah, I just have to change.” You nodded with a smile, kissed his cheek.

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about it, I brought you some new clothes, they’re in my car.” He said, jabbing a thumb out to the parking lot, where his shiny black car sat.

“You bought me new clothes?” You grinned, wondering how he had figured your sizes out.

“’Course I did, didn’t I fuckin’ tell you I brought you a bunch of shit from Miami?” He scoffed, and you nodded, he was right, he _did_ tell you. “I didn’t fuckin’ forget, I just was a little preoccupied with this sweet pussy right here.” He let a hand wander down to the front of your skirt, rub right at your crotch.

“Pale.” You laughed, pushing his hand away, biting your lip to stop from grinning. You didn’t want to get fired – _inappropriate workplace activity._

“(Y/N), you heading out?” Fishel asked, making you even more aware of your surroundings.

You held Pale’s hand in your own, the only way to stop it from shoving into your underwear right then and there, and turned to your boss.

“Yeah Fish, did you need me for something else?” You asked, desperately hoping that he didn’t. You wanted to go with Pale, wherever he was going to take you.

“Nah, just wanted to say goodbye before you slipped outta the door.” Fish gave you a warm smile, happy to see you standing next to _your man._

You were ready to turn around and leave when Pale offered his other hand – the one that hadn’t been trying to get into your cunt – to shake.

“Are you the owner here?” He asked, and Fishel grinned, taking the hand in his own.

“Yes sir, name’s Fischel.” Your boss said.

“Pale, very good to meet you.” Pale introduced himself, surprising you.

“Good to meet you too. I was just telling (Y/N) earlier today that I went to your restaurant for dinner last night – superb.” Fishel kissed his fingertips and smiled.

Pale took great interest in that, and you wondered if you’d ever get to leave now.

“What’d you order?” He asked, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

“The duck, it was great, Chaya – my wife – wouldn’t stop talkin’ about it.” Fish replied.

“Chaya’s got good taste.” Pale nodded, clearly pleased.

You gave Fishel a look, and he laughed, put his hands up.  

“Alright, don’t let me hold you two kids up. Good to meet you Pale, have a good night (Y/N).” He waved goodbye to you.

“Good night Fish, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You waved back, before leading the way out of the diner.

 

The air was much cooler outside, it was downright fucking freezing. You sometimes forgot how warm the diner got, between the kitchen and the people and all the lights and everything. It was just barely getting to sunset, and already it was freezing fucking cold.

Pale huddled around you, kept you warm through the thin layers of your clothes, led you to his car.

 “He treats you good?” He asked, sticking the key in the trunk and popping the lock, opening it to reveal many wrapped boxes and gift bags.

None of them had any name tags written on them, but you were sure they were for you. You smiled, blushed when he pulled out a big gift bag that had pink tissue paper sticking out of the top of it.

“Yeah, he does. A bit of a grump sometimes, but only when it’s raining. Bothers his knees.” You explained with a shrug.

“Come here, put this on.” He pulled out the dress, a beautiful sparkly number – black and short and covered in beads that reflected the light real nice.

He handed it to you, and you looked around.

“In the parking lot?” You asked, making him huff out a laugh. What? You thought, you’d do stranger things in a parking lot if he wanted you to.

“Nah, go in the backseat. Should be enough fuckin’ room to shimmy into it, I’ll zip you up. No one’s lookin’.” He said, unlocking the doors for you.

“Okay.” You said with a smile, laying down on the bench seats and changing as efficiently as you could.

It was difficult, would have definitely been easier standing, but Pale kept his word and stood in front of the door, blocked anyone’s view of you naked in his backseat. He had his back to you, you wondered if it was to keep him from fucking you right then and there.

“It fit good?” He finally asked, once you were knocking on the window to be let out.

“Yeah, like a dream.” You said, presenting your back to him so he could do up the zipper.

He handed you a big coat too, slipped your arms into the satin lining, warming you up right away.

“You look real fuckin’ nice.” He said, hands immediately groping at your tits, sliding down, feeling the way the dress sat on your hips.

“How far away is the restaurant?” You asked, preening under his touch.

He opened the passenger door for you, let you get settled in, before going around and getting into the driver’s seat, starting the car up.

“Not too far, why – hungry?” He asked.

You crossed your legs, leaned into him. He reversed out of the spot, and pulled onto the main road, leaving the diner far behind as he drove away.

You let your hand rest on his, right on the gearshift.

“Yeah, I’m _starving_.” You said, making him groan.

“Don’t fuckin’ get me started sweetheart, I have plans for you after the fuckin’ show.” He warned, taking your hand and bringing it to his, biting your palm and then kissing it to soothe the minor pain.

“Okay okay.” You laughed, settled back down.

His car was real nice, clean. You hadn’t been in a clean car in a long time, you almost forgot how new things could look. It looked very futuristic, all black and white, just like his apartment. You smiled at the theme you were starting to notice.

“What kinda car is this?” You asked, knowing nothing about them but wanting to know about Pale, about what he liked.

“Buick regional grand national.” He said right off the bat, making you smile.

“That’s a lot of words.” You said, and he smiled too.

“It’s a lot of car.” He pointed to a very complicated looking set of dials and buttons, “Lookit, even got a tape player right in the fuckin’ dashboard.”

“What do you have in there right now?” You were curious, pressing the ‘play’ button, music smoothly sounding.

“I like to drive to Chopin, don’t give me too bad road rage.” He explained when you gave him a big smile, him and his classical.

 

It was quiet for a little while, for once Pale didn’t have much to say, just listening to the music and paying attention to driving.

Your hand rested on his hand for a long while, but then you let it wander on down to his knee, even that was big and strong under your touch.

You thought he looked so handsome, with his hair like that, his silk shirt open right at the collar, the gold chain glinting in the light of the slowly setting sun.

“You’re real handsome.” You told him so. Was it the first time you’d told him? “I’ve always thought so.”

“You blind or something?” He scowled, but you frowned.

“Nope. I got twenty-twenty, and you’re handsome.” You insisted, making him suck his teeth, run a hand through his hair, all self-conscious now.

“I’m glad you think so. Not too many people would agree.” He was trying to be real tough, but you could see the hint of color on the tips of his ears where he had ruffled his hair.

You brought your hand up to fix his hair, set the waves the way you knew he liked.

“They don’t gotta agree, _I’m_ your girl, aren’t I?” You asked with a big smug grin, fully expecting to be teased.

“Yeah, you are.” He said instead.

You only smiled at that, put your hand back down on his knee.

Your hand crept closer and closer to where you knew his cock was hidden away under all his layers, ran your hand up his thigh, could feel the muscles twitching there. You loved to make him twitch like that, love it.

His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.

“You tryin’ to get us into a fuckin’ accident? That what you’re doin’?” Pale said, not doing a single thing to stop you.

You only hummed a little laugh and kept rubbing against him, mouth watering at the way his cock filled out under your touch.

“No you’re a real good driver, I’m not worried.” You said, licked your lips.

You wondered if you could get away with blowing him, right there in the car as he drove.

You reached over the gearshift with your other hand now too, started popping open the little clasp right at the closure of his zipper, eased it down. You wanted to pull his cock out, wanted to get it in your mouth, suck him off, make him feel good. His hips were getting all jumpy, like he wanted to fuck into your hands, but you’d do one better for him.

You adjusted yourself, bent over and started kissing the base of his dick, wet kisses all the way up to the head, making Pale groan.

“Jesus, I can’t fucking think straight with you touchin’ me like that, hold on.” He said with a growl, licked his lips.

He pulled off the road, came to a stop in an abandoned parking lot of some shopping center you’d never been in. It was dark, cars zipped past on the main road, nobody stopping to take notice of you – perfect.

“Pale, please can I?” You asked, all breathy, and you could hear his jaw clench with how eager he was.

He pushed the seat back just enough to give you more room as you leaned back over, he tangled a hand in your hair and guided your head down.

“Yeahyeah, suck my dick sweetheart, go on.” He encouraged you.

He groaned low when you sucked in earnest, hollowed out your cheeks. You could taste the salt of him, the way his cock dripped onto your tongue as it rubbed against your throat.

He had almost gotten it all the way down your throat pretty easy, but you still needed some time, still had to relax enough for him, try not to gag – even though you knew he loved it when you gagged on his cock.

“You feel real fuckin’ good you slut. You’re getting better and better at this every fuckin’ time – better at takin’ my cock. That’s it, you look real good, feel real good.” He said, the hand in your hair tight. “This mouth was made to get fucked, made for my cock.”

You moaned around him, he took the opportunity to force your head further down. Tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes, just from the size of him, but you pushed through, breathed through your nose, sucked and licked and kissed his cock like it was your favorite fucking thing, and it was, seconded only to the man it belonged to.

Your nose was pressed right up against his skin, all in his pubic hair. He smelled so musky, like pure sex, it filled your head with a sweet fog that had you moaning again.

You could tell he wanted to be rougher, but this wasn’t the best position, wasn’t the best way. You were focused on making him feel good, rubbing your hands on his thighs and taking as much of him as you could.

You moaned like a whore, moaned loud for him – no one was around, who would hear? No one, just Pale, and you liked making noise for Pale, liked the way he tensed whenever he heard it, liked the way it spurred him on.

Maybe he’d fuck you right, in the car. Spread you out in the backseat and push your legs apart and shake the fucking thing, make the whole car bounce. He was strong enough, he could do it, maybe you’d ask him too.

He cursed real loud and came, hot and salty down your throat. He pulled his cock out just enough to rub the head of it on your tongue, coming and coming in your mouth. You couldn’t tell what was dripping down your chin, if it was spit or come or both.

Either way, he didn’t stop, didn’t pull his cock all the way away, kept it in your mouth until the very last drop oozed out of him.

“Be a good girl and swallow.” He said, looking down at you with his face all pinched like he did, and you did as you were told, swallowing down and then swallowing again. “Let me see.”

You opened your mouth, stuck out your tongue for him. He pinched it between his fingers, held your jaw in place as he kissed you.  

“Good?” You asked against his lips.

“Real good princess, now keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself until we get to the damn restaurant, okay?” Pale said, giving your jaw a little shake before letting it go.

You ignored him, put your hand right over his on the gear shift, but he didn’t tell you to move the whole rest of the way there.


	7. Miracles

You had kept your fucking hands to yourself for the most part like he had asked, and Pale was grateful. Last thing he needed was swerving into oncoming fucking traffic over the bridge from you jerkin’ him off. He couldn’t even look at you, at your pretty fuckin’ face, too worried he’d crash the god damned car staring at you for too long.

The restaurant was nice, not the nicest place in the world because he didn’t fuckin’ feel like driving _that_ far, but nice.

You held onto his arm as the two of yous walked into the joint, it was all cream linen tablecloths and chandeliers, and you were eyeing every piece of art on the walls.

“You like it?” He asked, wanting to make sure you didn’t think the place sucked.

“It’s beautiful.” You smiled up at him, and he couldn’t take that for too long before he pinched at your nose and made you laugh, the sound made his fucking heart stutter as he slid into the booth next to you.

He really was going to have to get a fuckin’ doctor to take a look at him wasn’t he?

“How come we’re eating out tonight?” You asked as you unfolded the napkin onto your lap, smoothed it over your thighs where the skirt of your dress was doing its fucking best to not ride up.

He slipped his hand between your thigh anyway, didn’t do nothin’ too handsy, just sandwiched his palm between your legs. God you were so hot.

The waiter came around and poured some ice water into the glasses in front of you, asked for the wine order. Pale rambled off some high end name, wanted to get rid of the kid, wanted to have you all to himself.

“I need a reason to take my girl out?” He scoffed, lighting a cigarette and blowing big puffs into the air.

You made a face at that, a real happy one. One of those smug cat-that-got-the-cream kinds that made him realize he slipped up, said something too fuckin’ sappy.

“Your girl.” You said with a bit of a teasing lilt, grinning into your glass of water.

“Come on don’t start.” He rolled his eyes, cheeks heating up despite his best efforts.

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that.” You said, not even fucking bothering to hide that smile now.

“How’s that?” He frowned, he didn’t remember sayin’ it before? You had said it in the car and he had confirmed it – because how could he? How could he deny it? He was just a man after all.

“When you were yelling at Marty, you called me your girl.” You smiled and smiled, and of course he remembered that now that you mentioned it, of course he did.

“No I didn’t.” He said anyway, and you laughed, sipped your water.

“Okay.” You relented, took the time to look at the menu even though you knew he was gonna order for you anyway.

He smoked for a little bit, anxiety chewing him up for a second.

“Well you are, ain’t you?” He asked a little too snappish, in a roundabout way just wanting to hear you say it. What if you’d changed your mind? What if –

“You bet I am.” You interrupted what coulda been a real slippery fuckin’ slope, “Said so in the car didn’t I?” You asked, sipped your water.

The waiter came back with the wine. He must have been new because he did a real shit job pouring Pale’s glass, so bad that he fuckin’ snatched the bottle right out of the kids hand and poured your glass himself. The kid practically scurried out of the place in shame.

“Well I ain’t out to dinner with my old fuckin’ lady if that’s what you’re askin’.” Pale sniffed, set the bottle down and flicked his ash into the crystal ashtray on the table.

You were quiet for a moment, eyeing his hand as he smoked, a little crease in between your eyebrows. Pale wanted to wipe away that crease, so he did – smoothed his thumb right on your forehead, making you sigh a happy little smile out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked gently, taking his hand away from your forehead and biting his thumb. “What happened in Miami?”

“Not really.” Pale shook his head, and bless you, you just smiled.

“Okay.” You said, too understanding. How were you too understanding all the fucking time?

“’Okay’?” He asked, giving you a chance to push, to be nosy, to be rightfully pissed off at him for being a married fuckin’ man, stupid, so stupid of him to have gotten married --

“Yeah, ‘okay’.” You shrugged, looked down at the menu and then back at him. “What are we ordering?”

“Why are you so fuckin’ easy breezy all the time?” He asked, couldn’t help himself, was so fucking confused by you.

Not that he would mind if you had been married, he wouldn’t have given a shit about that, woulda taken care of that for you if that’s something you had wanted, but why were _you_ so cool about everything?

“What, you want me to yell at you?” You asked, a teasing smile dancing on your lips as you sipped the wine, it stained them dark red, he just had to swoop down and kiss you real quick.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’d fuckin’ know how to handle that better. I don’t know how to handle you sometimes, I always expect you to give me a fuckin’ hard time, but you never do. It sets me on edge, you know? I always fuckin’ wait for the other fuckin’ shoe to drop but it never does. How come?” He frowned.

“I only got the one.” You shrugged, and despite his mood, he laughed a little at that.

“Where the hell did you come from?” He muttered under his breath, but you only laughed.

“Not Jersey – maybe that’s your problem.” You said.

“Watch it.” He gave you a warning frown, but you just tucked yourself right up against him, encouraged that hand of his in between your thighs to smooth itself over your panties.

“Come on you gotta admit that was kinda funny.” You kissed the corner of his mouth over and over again until he smiled, shook his head just enough to dislodge you.

“It was very funny.” He conceded, smoked his cigarette.

The waiter came and went, took the orders and brought the food. All the while Pale finished his smoke, fondled you a little bit.

“How do you feel about vacations?” Pale asked once the dinner had arrived, had pulled his hand away just long enough to cut into his fucking prime rib, and then pushed it right back down.

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t go on any.” You said, cutting into your own meal, trying not to squirm under his touch.

That caught him off guard.

“What, never?” He asked with a frown, and you just shook your head.

“Nope.” You popped your ‘p’, but didn’t seem too upset about it.

He could change that, he thought, he could take you wherever the fuck you wanted to go. He wondered where you might want, out of the country probably. He wouldn’t blame you for wanting to get out of the fuckin’ country with all the shit going on. Then again the whole fuckin’ world was in shambles, so what difference would it make.

Either way, the thought of fucking you in Paris sounded good enough for him to rub at your panties some more.

“Well you should. You work too fuckin’ hard not to go on vacation, you know? You work too hard. Ask Fishel for some time off.” He suggested, not really suggesting but you know.

“Nah, I can’t do that.” You shook your head.

“Why the fuck not?” He asked, not unkindly, just confused.

“I’m his best waitress, you know? I can’t go leavin’ him with Maria or Stephanie or whoever the fuck else. They don’t got the same know-how as me.” You chuckled, probably imagining what the place would be like in your absence.

“Jesus you wouldn’t be gone all fuckin’ year, just a weekend or something, enough time to warm your bones. It’s fuckin’ freezing here.” He huffed, sipped his wine and ate his steak.

“What do you expect, it’s January. What’s January like in Jersey?” You teased.

“Cold as all shit.” He teased back, making you laugh.

The two of you ate for a while, sat in pleasant silence.

Pale’s brain was whirring of course, thinking of all the things he had to get done over the next couple of days. Maybe he’d call Kenny up, book an appointment. He had to check on the shipment schedule, make sure that was all up to fuckin’ snuff, probably should go to the fuckin’ docks make sure nothin’ out of order was goin’ on, he definitely needed --

“Where would we go?” You asked, breaking the silence, humming with thought.

“Wherever you want.” He shrugged, looking at you.

“Have you been a lot of places?” You looked right back at him.

“Not too many, a couple cities, couple states, couple countries.” He sipped his wine, no big deal. It was no big deal. He had more pins on a map than most fuckin’ travel agencies, but it was no big deal.

“What’s your favorite?” You asked.

“Queens.” He said without any hesitation.

You blushed so pretty he just had to kiss you again.

 

Pale was hot, hot for you. Something about the way you fuckin’ looked tonight, in that dress he picked out for you, in the low light of the restaurant, who fuckin’ knows. You looked so good, always looked good, god he wanted to fuck you.

The threw a couple hundred dollar bills onto the table, grabbed at your hand.

“Come with me, I want my fuckin’ dessert and I don’t want to wait for it.” He said without any more preamble, and slid out of the booth.

You followed, you had to fuckin’ know what was coming, had to know how bad he wanted you. You had to know.

He got you as far as the back alley, just behind the restaurant where the busboys took their break. One was smoking there now, but Pale didn’t pay too much attention, too hell bent on getting your panties yanked down to your ankles.

“How do you want me?” You shuddered, the cold air on your cunt.

“Back against the wall, put your fuckin’ leg over my shoulder.” He ordered, as he crouched down enough to get eye level with your glistening pussy, and you did as you were told; slung your leg over his shoulder, heel digging into his back.

He licked into you, sucked all your juices up. You made the best fucking noises, you really did, he thought as he licked and prodded his tongue between your folds.

Your hands immediately went to his hair, made him smile against you as they dug into his scalp, fisted his hair and held his head in place.

“Pale, please – ” You sighed as he thrust his tongue deep into you, making you yelp, pull his hair a little too hard.

“Be good.” He said, pulling back, looking up at you.

He wrapped an arm around the thigh on his shoulder, bit a dark mark there before going back to drinking your pussy down, his nose prodding and rubbing at your clit.

“ _Oh!_ ” You gasped, back arching against the filthy alley wall as he did it again and again, and again as you came.  

He moved your leg off of him, stood up. You were looking at him with a hazy look of pleasure all over your face, it made his cock hard.

“I’m not fuckin’ finished with you yet.” He said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

He snapped your panties off, ripped them right up and tugged you over to where his car was parked in the dark lot.  

“Bend over, come on.” He licked his teeth, anxious, had to get in you, had to fuck you right fuckin’ now.

You did as you were told, braced yourself on the hood of his car, god he was so glad he had bought this model, there was plenty of hood space. He shoved the scrappy panties into your mouth, gagged you with it, made you taste yourself.

He wasted no fuckin’ time at all yanking his belt open, his fly, pulling out his cock. He grunted as he slid into you, pushing the air out of your lungs at the same time as he pushed you flush down on the hood.

He didn’t even give you any fuckin’ time to adjust, just had you biting down on your panties to muffle your moans.

“One of these days I’m gonna strip you naked and fuck you like this, get your sweat all over the hood of my fucking car, so everyone can know what a slut you are – aren’t you?” He loved the way you looked like this, like a girl out of some fuckin’ whitesnake video, shaking the car with how good he was fucking you.

You couldn’t answer, of course, he fuckin’ knew you couldn’t, but you nodded your head anyway, let him know – let him know that you were _his_ whore, his slut, that this was his cunt to fuck.

And fuck it he did, hard and rough in the god damned dingy parking lot behind the restaurant, fucked you right off the freeway, under nothing but the light of the damn moon. He wished there was at least a street light somewhere, at the very fuckin’ least, so he could see the way your back moved as he rammed into you.

He wasn’t going to last, not with the way you were moaning for him, but that was okay, he had all night to fuck you, all night to make you scream and cry and beg for him. The thought of you begging had him coming, had him pushing all the way into you, could feel the head of his cock shoving its way against your cervix, making you clench up around him and come too, both of you going and going until you slumped limp against the car, until the stars stopped dancing behind his eyes.

He yanked the underwear out of your mouth, stuffed it in his pocket. You unstuck yourself from the car, turned around and smiled at him.

“Let’s get the fuck home, huh?” He asked, not wanting to think about the implications of that statement, brain too fuckin’ fuzzy to care right now.

You just nodded with a smile, always with a fuckin’ satisfied smile, and got in the car.

 

* * *

 

 

“Go draw a bath, would ya?” He asked when the two of you got back to your place.

He was fuckin’ freezing despite his jacket, and the thought of soaking in a hot tub seemed like exactly what he needed.

“Okay, but we’re running out of bubbles.” You said, disappearing into the bathroom.

“Alright I’ll pick more up tomorrow.” He said, pulling off his clothes and throwing them onto the couch.

“Are you off tomorrow?” You asked, working on getting yourself naked too.

You stripped down to nothing but the chain, and that made Pale’s stomach get all fuckin’ twisted in knots again. A doctors’ trip was definitely fuckin’ needed, he’d call Kenny the next day, he decided.

“No but I don’t gotta go in until late.” He shook his head, climbed into the tub.

“I’m workin’ a double.” You frowned, reaching for his hand to steady yourself as you climbed in too.

You grabbed the little bottle of bubble bath and drizzled it into the tub, shutting the water off so it wouldn’t overflow and get suds all over the fucking place.

“I’ll come over when I’m done, I gotta run a couple errands during the day so I can’t go visitin’ you at work or nothin’.” He reassured you and you straddled him, settled your thighs around his hips, carding your hands through his wet hair.

“That’s okay, Sundays are real busy anyway. Got all the folks who don’t go to church rushin’ the place for breakfast to take advantage of all the empty space, and then got the lunch rush for all the folks comin’ out of church wantin’ a bite to eat.” You said, and he smiled.

“Good think you got the know-how, huh.” He teased.

You leaned down to kiss him.

“You bet, and I make the most tips.” You winked.

He ran his hands up your stomach and grabbed at your tits, massaged them in his hands.

“You sure it ain’t ‘cause of these tits of yours?” He ran his teeth along your jaw, nipped at your cheek.

“Nah, only you get to see them.” You said, voice low, like even that was just for him.

“That’s fuckin’ right.” He sucked on your bottom lip, got it all red and puffy.

“Can I ride you?” You asked, whining, shifting your weight on your knees.

“’Course you can sweetheart, come here.” He leaned back, watched as you did all the work.

You really were like a work of fuckin’ art, he thought, as you cried on his dick.

You had thrown your head back, soap and suds sliding down your curves, over your tits.

He almost wished he brought his cigarettes in, he had gone through the pack he kept stashed in your fuckin’ bathroom, he’d pick up more when he got the bubbles.

You were hungry for it, that was for fuckin’ sure, and every so often he would thrust up into you, make you yelp out in pleasure.

You did that hip circling thing again, the one that made his eyes roll back as you clenched down around him, god you were an angel, how had he found you? How was he so fuckin’ lucky? How how how?

In the shitty light of the bathroom you were some fuckin’ slutty angel just for him, and with his hands on your hips he fucked up into you, bounced you on his cock with his own thrusts.

“I’m gonna – ”

“Just a little bit more.” He interrupted, not wanting this to be over so fuckin’ soon, not yet, not yet.

“Pale pleasepleaseplease.” You begged, face all scrunched up, crying and moaning and groaning and grooving for him, grinding down on his cock.

He came in you with a stuttered groan, fucked you through it, milked his orgasm for whatever it was worth. He reached down and rolled your clit as he thrust, and you came too, that mouth of yours dropping into a pretty little _O._

“Are you stayin’ over?” You breathed, tried to catch your breath. He liked that he knocked the wind outta you.  

“Not tonight.” He said. He wished he could, but he had too much shit to do, too much to stay.

“Okay.” You frowned, and it broke his fuckin’ heart, he could feel it shatter into a thousand tiny pieces, panic spiking in him, he didn’t want you upset.

“Hey don’t sound so fuckin’ glum, I’m comin’ over tomorrow night after work.” He tipped your chin up, sat up a bit in the tub, sloshed the water around and kissed you, tried to kiss you happy again.

“I know, but it’s so cold without you.” You whined, pouting at him as you draped your arms over his shoulders.

“That all you use me for? My heat? Huh?” He teased, kissing you all over your face until you didn’t look so fuckin’ sad.

“Yeah that’s it.” You rolled your eyes, making him smile against his own better fuckin’ judgement, “Definitely not your charm, or your wit, or your sense of humor or nothin’.”

“Good.” He said, giving your jaw a shake and pulling you in for another kiss.

 

* * *

 

 

He never liked the doctors office. It was always too fuckin’ clean, he thought. He didn’t trust clean places, didn’t like what that meant – that someone had come in there, looked around and decided this place wasn’t good enough for them as is, had to make it spic-and-fuckin’-span.

Doctors offices had no fuckin’ charm, no personality, he thought.

“Hey I’m here to see doctor fuckin’ so-and-so?” Pale walked right up to the front desk, cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Dr. Kenneth?” The woman at the desk frowned, and he laughed.

Kenneth, he thought, so fuckin’ professional.  

“Is that what they’re callin’ him these days? Yeah, Dr. Kenneth.” He agreed, shrugged, whatever.

“Do you have an appointment?” She asked.

“No I don’t got an appointment, but tell him Jimmy’s here, he’ll know what that means.” Pale said, not moving.  

“Just a moment.” The woman said, eyeing him as she picked up the phone. “Dr.? Yes, a Jimmy is here to see you. Okay…okay….thank you. You can go on in.” She said, mildly annoyed that he got to skip the line so to speak.

“Thanks.” He said, leaving a cloud of smoke behind him.

He walked right back to the open patient room, didn’t bother sitting down.

“Jim! How are ya?” A familiar face smiled at him, pulled him into a tight hug.

“I ain’t so good Kenny.” Pale said with a frown, making Kenny frown too.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, immediately concerned.

Pale did sit then, didn’t really know how to start. How could he? He didn’t even know what was wrong with him, didn’t know what to tell Kenny to even start asking the right questions to find out what was wrong.

“Well, I got this girl, see. She’s real pretty, got the best fuckin’ face I ever seen, like straight outta your dreams kinda pretty. And I think she’s done something to me but I don’t know what.” Pale said, knowing exactly how fucking paranoid he was sounding right now.

“What, like poison you?” Kenny asked in disbelief, making Pale shake his head.

“No, it’s like…it’s like I got a toothache she’s so sweet, you know? A toothache right in my fuckin’ chest – why the fuck are you smiling at me like that Kenny this ain’t no laughing matter I could be dying!” Pale snapped, not appreciating the fuckin’ hysterics.

“When you’re with this girl, how does it make you feel? Does your stomach hurt?” Kenny composed himself, even did Pale the decency of pulling out his fuckin’ clipboard.

“Nah not hurt exactly, but it does these little fuckin’ flips like I’m about to be sick, you know? Like I’m going on a rollercoaster and we’re going upside down and shit. Am I dying?” Pale asked, wanting to know straight up.

Kenny stared at his clipboard for a long while, mulling over his notes.

“You’re not dying, you’re in love.” He said finally, and Pale rolled his eyes, struck up another cigarette.

“Fuck you no I’m not.” He scoffed, but Kenny laughed.

“Of course you are! And you damn well better be, married and all.” He said pointedly.

“No Kenny it ain’t her, I’m done with her.” Pale shook his head, blew smoke outta his nose.

“Done?” Kenny frowned, shit, had he not told anyone?

“Yeah she fuckin’ split two years ago, comin’ up on three.” Pale rectified that mistake then and there, and waved away Kenny’s already sympathetic face.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Jimmy I didn’t know. Divorce and everything?” He asked, but Pale shook his head.

“She won’t sign the fuckin’ papers, but we might as well be. Went down to Miami for Christmas where she’s staying with the kids and her fucking parents, and I got all fucked up but for different reasons, you know?” He smoked and smoked. Wondered if there was something ironic about smoking in a doctors office.

“Yeah I know. Shit, you’re in love and got yourself a mistress.” Kenny whistled.

“Hey don’t talk about her like that, she’s better than that, than a fuckin’ mistress. She ain’t no side chick or nothing, she’s my main girl – my only girl. Got that?” Pale bristled, making Kenny put his hands up in mercy.

“Yeah I got it, I got it Jimmy. You’re not dying though.” He chucked the clipboard onto the desk, reached out his hand for a cigarette.

“Who the fuck even gave you your medical license, huh?” Pale muttered, gave him one anyway and tossed him a lighter.

“Does this girl not know? Is that what’s got you so worked up?” Kenny asked, glad for the smoke.

“Not know what?” Pale asked back.

“That you like her.” He clarified.

“I fuck her like 10 fuckin’ times a week _yeah_ she knows I like her.” Pale sniffed, making Kenny laugh.

“Then why the hell are you here asking me all this instead of just talkin’ to her?” He raised his eyebrows in an all too familiar way. Looked like his fuckin’ father when he did that.

“Because I’m still con-fuckin’-vinced there’s something wrong with me.” Pale grumbled, annoyed.

“How long we know each other Jimmy?” Kenny asked in that stupid way of his.

“Our whole fuckin’ lives, you’re my brother you asshole.” Pale rolled his eyes, making Kenny nod.

“We’ve known each other our whole lives, I know when my brother is dyin’ and this ain’t it, okay?” Kenny said, makin’ Pale snap his jaw shut. “Does she know about Robbie?”

“Yeah, she knows.” He said.

“She good to you?” Kenny asked, “You know, like do you talk to her? She treat you okay?”

“She treats me too good, I don’t deserve it.” Pale sighed, making his brother frown.

“Why not, are you mean to her?” He asked, making Pale want to deck him.

“Of course I’m not fuckin’ mean to her Kenny what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snapped, but Kenny just shrugged.

“I just know sometimes you’re a little rough around the edges is all, jesus I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.” He defended himself.

“You know I almost fuckin’ killed a guy in front of her and she didn’t so much as flinch, she don’t care that I’m ‘rough around the edges.’” Pale said, admiring you.

“What’d the poor sucker do?” Kenny asked, knowing this ain’t the first or last time something like that would happen.

“He touched her and she didn’t like it, so I beat his fuckin’ face in.” Pale shrugged, making Kenny grin.

“So that’s what busted your knuckles all up.” He waved to his brother’s hand.

“Oh yeah, how they lookin’? Not infected or nothing right?” He leaned over, gave his brother his hand to look at.

“Nope you’re good.” He replied after a cursory glance, “And I mean it, you’re fine. Get out of my office and go back to your girl, okay?”

“Alright alright, thanks Kenny.” Pale sighed, standing back up and giving his brother a hug.

“Hey – and call Mom at some point, okay? She misses you.” Kenny said, patting him on the shoulder.

“Yeah I’ll ring her up tomorrow.” Pale rolled his eyes.

He left the office, and said goodbye to the woman at the desk, before being confronted with pouring rain outside.

God fucking damnit, he thought, of course he hadn’t thought to bring his umbrella – when the hell did it rain like this in the middle of winter? Wasn’t it supposed to snow instead?

He made a mad dash to his car, using his fucking jacket as a shield against the ran, sped through it to get to your apartment.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time he had parked, the rain hadn’t stopped, and Pale was pissed. He cursed to himself as he bounded up the stairs to your apartment two at a time, bitched to himself about his fancy fucking leather jacket and his boots and his silk fucking shirt that all was going to be ruined.

He shoved the key into your lock and threw the door open with a bang.

You of course, weren’t so much as surprised by the noise.

“Get the fuck over here.” He barked out, slamming the door just as loud.

You lazily walked over, abandoned whatever it was you were doing in the kitchen in favor of Pale. He was sick with this feeling in his fucking gut for you, sick with it. He had to have you, he needed you.

The second you got close enough he grabbed your arms, crushed you to him in a bruising kiss.

Pale had you pinned against the wall. Your chest was heaving, tits spilling out of your strappy top for him, pushing practically into his fuckin’ face. He could feel your thighs twitching underneath that slutty skirt you put on just for him, eager for him. Your eyes were wide open, he could smell the lust on you, smell how you wanted him.

He was going to fucking give it to you.

Like a man possessed he pulled out his switchblade, the one he kept hidden in his fucking jacket that was soaking fucking wet. He flipped it open, pressed it against your hip. You smiled.

That mouth, that mouth thatmouththatmouth – it was all he could think about.

He started with one, just one. One fucking finger in your mouth, rubbing against your tongue.

“Suck.” He said. You were so fucking good, you always waited until he said.

He added a second, his middle finger, pushed the two in and out of your mouth. Watched the spit glisten in the scarce moonlight. You sucked, and sucked and _jesus_ he could watch the way his fingers stuffed your mouth for hours, days, weeks.

He was mesmerized, he was fucking out of it – was he dreaming? He didn’t want to wake up if it was, wanted to watch you forever. He could, you know. He really fucking could.

You sucked, and he added a third, his ring finger. God it felt so naked without his ring – the reminder made him snarl, made him push his fingers down your throat, made him make you gag.

“I like when you’re sloppy.” He growled, sneering down at you, baring his teeth and licking his lips as you made a mess of yourself, all for him.

The noises were delicious, disgustingly wet, exactly the way he liked it. He didn’t know where he was going with this, didn’t know what the fuck he was doing but he knew he never wanted to stop.

He let the switchblade trail up your thigh over your skirt. He could cut it right up if he wanted you, you’d let him. He’d just buy you another one anyway.

He did it, sliced right through the fabric, letting it fall to the floor. You weren’t wearing underwear underneath. He cut up your top too, you weren’t wearing a bra neither.

He added a fourth, his pinky, slipped it right into your fucking mouth, spread his fingers apart and ran the tips along the sharp edges of your teeth.

He pulled his hand away, let all the sticky spit string along as he did. You whined, you knew how he loved to hear you whine for him.

He smeared his soaking wet hand, really it was dripping from all your good fuckin’ work, against your mouth and chin. Held your jaw in his big hand, forced it open just enough so he could lean in and lick your bottom lip. You were panting, drooling. He licked it up.

His slippery hand covered your mouth, he spread his fingers to grip tight at your jaw and cover up that gorgeous fucking mouth of yours, but you just kissed his palm. Sucked right at the juncture between his thumb and index finger, moaned.

He was so hard in his fucking jeans, but he couldn’t stop watching you, couldn’t stop pressing his hand against your mouth, like he was covering up a scream. Maybe he was, maybe he’d make you scream for him.

You made out with his hand until he pressed it downwards, pressed it against your throat.

“Say it.” He choked you making your head tip back and hit the back of the wall.

“I’m your whore.” You breathed with the biggest, smuggest fucking smile on your face. 

He leaned in and parted your lips with his tongue, exhaled into your mouth. You moaned, breathed him in.

His hand traveled to the back of your head, gripped the hair at the base of your skull into his tight fist. He pushed you down, watched hungrily as you went, watched as you sank to your knees.

It was slow, torture, the way you slid down the wall. Torture watching you. Was he dreaming?

Just when you probably fucking thought he was going to pull his dick out and fuck your throat, he stepped back, watched and watched and watched you.

“Go to the bed.” He said, voice pitched deep from how fucking turned on he was.

Thunder cracked outside, the entire apartment lighting up something fuckin’ fierce with a flash of white light. Rain poured and poured and poured outside – maybe he’d fuck you on the fire escape after.

Pale watched as you crawled.

Crawled on your hands and fucking knees. Slunk across the floor of the living room.

Only when you had crawled your fucking way to the god damned bed and lay back like some fucking pillow princess, spreading your legs like the perfect fucking angel you were, did he bother to unbuckle his jeans, storming over to you.

He grabbed at your legs, yanked you down so your ass was barely hanging off the foot of the bed, and pushed into you.

“I’m gonna fuck you raw.” He said, voice low in your ear. He drank up the way you shivered under his bruising touch as he dug his fingers into your waist.

“Yeah?” You asked, shaking, shaking with how eager you were.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” He nodded slowly, grinding his dick into you, drawing out the sweetest noise from your throat.

There was something about fucking you like this, you on your back, that made him feel so fucking electric.

Your tits bounced as he slammed his way into you, pushing you up and up and up the bed with the hard smack of his hips, his thighs burning from being so fucking tense. You felt amazing around him, his whole world narrowed down to the tight hot wetness between your legs, your pussy pulling him in, begging for him.

“Pale! Oh pale, harder – harder _please_.” You echoed it, echoed your own bodies desires.

He tugged one of your legs up and over your shoulder, bit down hard on your ankle as he re-adjusted himself, got in even deeper into you.

He smacked your thigh, watched the way the flesh jiggled for him, and smacked it again.

“You fucking like that?” he asked, demanded from you, needed to hear you say it, needed to know he was making you feel good, feel the fucking best.

“I love it! I love it don’t you fucking stop.” You cried out for him, fists twisting in the sheets.

Adrenaline flooded his system, he yanked the pillow out from under your head, making you let out a quick groan of protest as your head bounced on the mattress, but he ignored that for the time being and shoved it under your pelvis, elevating your hips for him so he could get a better angle.

God he was on fire, his whole fucking body, aching and sweating, burning up from the inside. He could see the sweat dripping off of him, his hands were losing their grip, slipping and sliding all over your skin, pinching at your nipples, sucking them into his mouth.

“Pale!” You gasped, clawing at his back.

“Oh yeah? My slut like that? Felt that right in your cunt, did ya?” He snarled, bared his teeth at you as you nodded so fast you were almost a fuckin’ blur to him.

“Yes!” You were shaking shaking shaking under him, he pressed against your throat, could feel you swallowing around his hand.

“Fucking – turn around.” He pulled out all at once, making you gasp and whine and squirm, desperate to get him back in you.

He manhandled you so that you were on all fours, and he scrambled up onto the bed, on his knees, pushing your shoulders down and spitting on your cunt before shoving his way back in.

“Please, you’re so – it’s so much, you’re so good I’m your whore and you’re so good.” You cried and cried, tears of pleasure pressing into the mattress as your pussy drooled, squelched for him.

The sounds you made went straight to his cock, and he kneaded your ass in his hands, pulled your cheeks apart to watch his dick pump in and out of you. You were so _hot,_ so wet for him, he could feel your come on his thighs as he thrust into you.

“You’re mine.” He growled, wrapped your hair around his hand and pulled your head towards him, forcing you to arch your back.

He pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the tip in you before slamming all the fucking way in, nearly impaling you on his cock. He did that over and and over again, pulling out agonizingly slow, and then ramming back in, each time making you sob harder for him.

The fucking headboard smacked against the wall, he got a sick thrill from that, wondering if all the fucking neighbors could hear you over the sound of the rain.

“Say my fucking name.” Pale let go of your hand but caught your jaw instead, holding your head back, straining your pretty neck.

“Pale!” You cried, “Let me come? Please let me come.” You begged for him, and how could he deny you when you begged so sweet?

“Touch yourself, go on.” He said, watching with hazy vision as you reached under yourself, toyed with your clit until you were clenching down around him.

The way your cunt clamped down on his cock had him coming and coming and coming, so much that he threw a hand under you, pressed it right up to your belly, could swear he could feel it pulsing from the outside.

Your knees buckled underneath you, but he supported your hips with his hands as he came, not wanting you to get even a fucking inch away from him right now. He felt like if he didn’t empty all his come into your pussy right that fucking second, he’d die, he’d just die.

The rain beat down and down on the window, and you were both panting, and he didn’t even fucking bother pulling out of you, just rolled the both of you over so you were on your sides, and passed the fuck out.

 

Pale blinked awake right when the sun was just barely starting to make its way over the horizon. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, and he had slipped out of you sometime too, dried come all over the both of you, sticking you two together. He didn’t mind so much, not with you in his arms, your head tucked against his chest.

He tried not to move too suddenly, tried not to disturb you as he gently moved some of your hair away from your neck where he knew it was probably uncomfortable.

“I don’t believe in anything, you know?” He whispered to you. “Like some big man up in the sky or nothin’.”

Was he talking to you? Was he talking at all? He could never tell, this early. There weren’t sirens for once, that was something new. He was probably dreaming.

“I’m not too big of a fan of miracles, I think they’re lazy.” He said anyway, because did it really matter if he was awake or not? You were still snoring gently against him anyway. “Somethin’ good happen? Call it a miracle and ignore all the shit all the people had to do their whole lives to get to a point where the good thing can happen, you know? They’re selfish, miracles.”

He looked out the window, counted the stars he saw. No wait – those were just airplanes. How fuckin’ annoying. He couldn’t imagine getting a flight that early.

“Same with fate. I don’t do that whole fuckin’ _oh it was meant to be_ bullshit.” He sighed. “Or at least, I didn’t use to. Now, I don’t know. You make me question a lot of shit about shit, you know? Make me wonder. Sometimes you feel like a miracle, like fate. Sometimes when I look at you I feel like my whole fuckin’ life was buildin’ up to this moment, to meeting you. Ain’t that ridiculous?”

“You make me so fuckin’ weak, I’m weak for you. You got me wrapped around your fuckin’ finger and you didn’t even have to try. Got me callin’ up the fuckin’ doc to make sure I don’t got some kinda heart condition. You’re a menace, killin’ me.”

He waited, he didn’t know what for. He never knew what for anymore.

“Bein’ with you is torture sometimes, in a good kinda way. Is there a good kind of torture? I don’t know. You make it feel like there is though, the way you look at me sometimes. You’re too good. You’re a menace. Bein’ away from you is worse though. I swear to god I don’t think I could do that again, be away from you for that long again. That was too long. I didn’t know what to do with myself, spent all my time getting bitched at left and right. You know her parents had no clue we were split? Had no fuckin’ clue that I hadn’t seen my kids in a year? She told them I was away on a business trip, and they believed it – what a crock of shit.”

He watched an airplane go all the way across the sky, watched it disappear behind one of the big skyscrapers way out in the distance.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, you’re the only thing I can ever think about these fuckin’ days. All day every day, what are you doing? What are you wearing? Are you happy? Are you okay? Do you miss me? Are you thinking about me too? It’s okay if you don’t. It’s okay. But I hope you are. You said you’re my girl, but for how long, you know? You got me scared shitless over here, scared to fuckin’ death you’re gonna get fed up and tell me to leave, change the lock.”

That made him tear up, made a stupid big lump show up in his throat. He held onto you a little tighter, afraid that if he didn’t you’d disappear right before his very eyes.

“I would leave, if you told me to. I’d walk out that door and I wouldn’t come back until you said so. I wouldn’t bother you at work or stare in your window. I wouldn’t buy you gifts or cook you food or nothing. I’d go away, if you told me to. It would kill me, be the fuckin’ end of me, but I’d do it if that’s what you wanted. I’d do anything you wanted. Kenny says I ain’t sick or nothin’, but I feel like I am, sick over the thought of losing you. Ain’t that somethin’? I ain’t never been sick like this before – and the only fuckin’ time I don’t feel so fuckin’ terrified is when I’m kissin’ you. Somethin’ about the way you kiss, I don’t know it’s like the most reassuring fuckin’ thing in the whole god damned divine universe. Who needs heaven when I got your kisses, you know?”

He was losing his fucking mind, spouting shit like this. Worst of all was that it was all true.

“Jesus, I’m fuckin’ glad you can’t hear none of this.”

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later, Pale found himself at the bar.

It was a shitty hole in the wall joint, but it had become one of his refuges after a long fucking day of work. And boy had he had a fuckin’ day.

But he was at the bar now, and he had already done a couple lines with some of the guys in the bathroom, and he had already thrown back a drink or two, and he was feelin’ good.

There was some fuckin’ music playing he didn’t jive with, didn’t know what kind of sound it was supposed to be – something electronic. He didn’t fuckin’ know, but it didn’t matter.

Some guys were playing pool, one of the guys was losing pretty fucking badly. It was almost pitiful.

“Hey pal, you want any pointers?” He offered, calling across to the big guy who was losing.

“I ain’t queer.” The guy spit back, just as drunk as Pale was.

That response threw him off, what the fuck did that mean? All he had fucking said was if he wanted some help.

“Didn’t fuckin’ say you were, jackass.” Pale spit back, turning his attention away from the loser and sipping some more brandy.

The bartender there knew him, not as well as some other bartenders, but well enough.

“Damn it!” The loser pounded his fist on the edge of the pool table. Must’ve lost the game, from the sound of it, Pale thought with a mean smile. “What the fuck are you laughing at, fruit?” The loser saw him and asked.

The bar went quiet.

“I know you ain’t fuckin’ talkin’ to me.” Pale said, out of his seat in a minute.

“So what if I am?” The big guy asked, although he was faltering now that Pale was up close and in his fucking face, nearly a whole head taller, and about as wide.

“Ain’t nothin’ fucking wrong with queers, you got that?” Pale sneered, but the guy just grimaced.

“Won’t fuckin’ matter anymore anyway, with all of them droppin’ like fuckin’ flies – ”

Pale’s fist connected with the guy’s nose before he could even finish his though, spraying blood across the green velvet of the pool table.

“Hey!” The guy shouted, cradling his face.

No one came to stop him, and thank fuck for that, because there was no way in hell that Pale wouldn’t have started swinging at them if they did.

He grabbed the guy and punched him hard across the face, breaking his nose more and more and more, kneeing him in the fucking stomach and sending him falling to the ground, gasping for air as he knocked the wind out of him.

Pale grabbed onto the pool table for leverage as he kicked the guy over and over, grabbed one of the empty beer bottles that was resting on the edge of it and smashed the glass over the guy’s head when he tried to get up, knocking him out cold.

Pale challenged anyone to fucking stop him as he gathered his coat, threw some money onto the pool table, and tried to fucking keep it together until he made it to his car.

 

The drive to your apartment felt like it took forever, like it took years and years. He sped through the non-existent traffic of three-am, ran red lights and floored it through yellows. He didn’t care. He felt like he couldn’t fucking breathe, yanking open the buttons on his button-down, he was choking he was suffocating.

How could they say that? How the fuck could people say that? That was his brother, that was people like Robbie they were talking about – dropping like flies he couldn’t – he didn’t –

He banged on your door, he didn’t know how he got there, he couldn’t remember – where did he park? God he couldn’t see everything was hazy, hazy and too sharp at the same time, like someone fucked up their tv but had perfect signal.

He banged and banged on the door, sobs wracking hos body, stinging his eyes his eyes were stinging.

You wrenched the door open, robe wrapped tight around your body, a look of panic on your face.

“Pale, are you – ” You started but he just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

You pulled him into your apartment, closed the door behind him and held onto him tight.

His whole fucking mind was spinning, was the room spinning? Where was he – oh that’s right that’s right – his hand hurt, he hurt all over.

“Jesus I can’t fucking take this anymore, I can’t fucking take it, you know that?” He cried into your hair, you held him.

“Can’t take what? Pale talk to me – ” You tried, but he couldn’t really listen, couldn’t stop the words from getting out but also couldn’t get them all the way out – his brain was going too fast, he was losing it losing it losing it.

“No one fuckin’ even knew him, you know? Not even me. I don’t – who gives a shit about anything any more? There’s no god damned point, there’s no – I’m – ” He was yelling, he knew he was yelling, could feel it in his throat. Could feel it in the walls in his bones in his head he couldn’t stop yelling.

“You’re not making sense.” You soothed him, tried to soothe him. You ran a hand up and down his back and he tried focusing on the movement but he was shaking and crying – why couldn’t he stop crying?

“I can’t – I can’t – ” He tried, and you just nodded, pet at his hair.

“Honey how much have you had to drink?” You asked, not a single fucking angry bone in your body, and that made him cry even harder.

“I don’t know I don’t – ” He sobbed, his whole fucking body shaking. He was soaking wet, all of him – had it rained again and he didn’t notice? What the fuck was wrong with him.

“Okay, come here.” You said, pulling him to the living room and away from the door. He got a good look at you through swollen eyes, god this was a bad trip a bad fuckin’ trip what kinda coke had they given him at the bar?

“Fuck I can’t fucking – you’re too much, you know that? You’re too fucking pretty. I can’t deal with it sometimes. Sometimes I look at you and I feel like I _gotta_ be high because no one is as fucking pretty as you are, they can’t be. You’re too much, make me feel too much I feel like my heart is crawling out of my fucking throat all the god damned time, I want to reach in and rip it out, it makes me sick. What the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Pale – ” You said, worry deep in your face.

“I like when you say my name, you know? You’re the only fuckin’ person I like sayin’ it. Everyone else says it like they need something, like they just waitin’ around for me to show up so I can fuckin’ do something for them. _Hey Pale, oh Pale is that you? Pale we need I need_ fuck off everyone just fuck off – but not you, you know? Not you. Say my name.” He begged, he was begging, begging for you to not be like the rest, begging for you to be sweet to him, no one was ever so sweet to him.

“Pale.” You said again.

“Pale. See I can’t even do it the way you do it. You’re too good for me, god – fuck me – fuck – ” He broke down, he was swaying – was he swaying or was the room spinning? He couldn’t tell.

“You gotta sit down or – ”

“It wasn’t a fucking boating accident that killed him, you know? It wasn’t I know it wasn’t – I know – it’s gotta be – ” He staggered around, knocked into some furniture, was that the coffee table?

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” You rushed behind him, wrangled him into your arms.

“You smell so good, all the fucking time. How do you smell so good?” He buried his face in your hair, rubbed his nose into your hair, breathed you in.

“I don’t know.” You said, holding on to him tight, you were the only fucking thing keeping him upright.

He pulled away from you enough to cup your cheeks in his hands, enough to stare deep into your eyes, enough to swallow hard against the terror that rose in his throat.

“I’m in lo – ” He started, but couldn’t finish, couldn’t get the words out, before he blacked out.


	8. Blackout

You were shocked. That was the only real word for all of it, shock.

 

Pale had collapsed in your arms, had fallen down and took you with him. You were both half on the couch, half on the floor, and you were shocked.

Your heart ached for Pale, ached for him and the way he had sobbed and cried and yelled. God he had screamed so loud, he was out of it, too far gone, too much to drink – who knows. You wish he had called you, had told you he needed you sooner.

It was moot, because he was here now, and he was blacked out, and you needed to figure out what to do with him.

The couch was too small for him, that was for sure. He was too tall, his legs too long. There wouldn’t be enough room for the both of yous, and you didn’t want to leave him alone, didn’t want to be so far away in the bedroom in case he woke up, scared and angry and confused.

“Okay Pale,” You said, mostly to yourself, “I’m gonna try and move you to the bed.”

He was out cold, smelled like shit – no, like booze. It made you wrinkle your nose as you tried to gather up this huge fuckin man in your arms.

“Okay – come on – ” You pushed and pulled him enough to get him somewhat into your arms, but you weren’t nearly strong enough to make it more than a few feet. “Shit!”

His dead weight was too much and you dropped him, wincing with the way he hit the floor.

“Shit, I’m sorry honey.” You whispered, waiting to see if he had woken up.

 

Thankfully it looked like he was still out.

 

“I don’t think I can make it all the way to the bed with you.” You sighed, running a hand down your face.

You were exhausted, working the double had really done a number on your patience. Your feet were aching and your back was all pinched up in knots, and you hadn’t even eaten yet. You were reheating soup when Pale had burst into the apartment like some great tornado of leather and tears.

You almost debated calling someone to help you bring him down to a doctor, who had he mentioned, Kenny? Maybe he could help. You didn’t know.

You checked the time, it was three in the morning. No one would be open, you thought with a sigh, and crossed your arms thoughtfully, trying to figure out what to do.

“If I can’t bring you to the bed, I’ll bring the bed to you.” You decided, leaving for your room for just a second, yanking all the shit off the mattress and carrying it in your arms to the living room.

You grabbed the sheet and the big comforter and all the pillows, even took the throw blanket and an extra one you had in the closet. You dumped it all onto the floor and began spreading out the sheets and blankets and pillows underneath him, arranging a makeshift bed that was more comfortable than the concrete floor.

You rolled him over onto his side in case he got sick and started peeling the clothes away from him. He had said he always ran hot, and you knew that from being next to him so long, you didn’t want him uncomfortable.

 

It was then that you noticed his bloodied hands sticking to everything as you tried to remove his shirt.

“Jesus, Pale.” You hissed with concern, immediately getting off the floor to go to your bathroom.

Your first aid kit wasn’t nearly as impressive as the one he had at his apartment, you knew that. You only had a couple normal sized bandaids and some alcohol wipes, but you knew he was going to need more than that, his knuckles were too busted. And he had _just_ started to get them healed from when he was beating up Marty.

Sighing, you grabbed the kit and wet a soft washcloth with soap and water, and carried everything to the living room to tend to him.

“I might have to go to your apartment.” You told him, “Gotta go raid your medicine cabinet.”

You wiped up the blood off his hands, frowned at the way it kept slowly oozing out of the cuts from where he busted his fucking knuckles open. You wrapped the cloth around his hands, tied it tight so that it hopefully wouldn’t go anywhere, and started fishing around in his clothes for the keys to his apartment.

You found them in his back jeans pocket, and leaned down to kiss him real soft. He just snored.  

“I’m gonna be right back, okay?” You got up again, tugged on your coat and slipped into your shoes, “Don’t move.” You told his sleeping form, before heading out the door.

 

* * *

 

It was bitter cold outside, and still damp from the rain. You didn’t like it when it was this kind of rain, when the cold froze the water on the ground and you had to be careful not to slip on the ice. You were glad you only had to go across the street, gad you only slipped once on the way. Black ice was a bitch, you thought.

The elevator ride to Pale’s floor was quiet, far too quiet for your liking. You had grown so accustomed to his never-ending monologues, it was eerie almost to be without him and in such silence. Maybe the city did sleep after all.

You got to his door in no time at all, and made a bee-line for the bathroom.

You hadn’t been in there the one time you’d visited with him, and you were unsure of where he kept his shit. The bathroom was huge, way bigger than yours.

You started searching through the medicine cabinet, finding not very much aside from Aspirin, condoms and coke, which made you huff out a little laugh. There was a small closet in the bathroom, and when you opened that up you were faced with all sorts of boxes of bandages and gauze, antibacterials and the like.

“Bingo!” You smiled as you started shoveling packages of gauze and tape and ointment into your coat pockets.

Geez, it looked like he had raided a fucking doctor’s office or something, you thought. He must have grabbed everything from one of his visits to Kenny. You wondered if he went to the doctor often, if Kenny was just a friend or maybe family. Pale didn’t talk a lot about his family.

That was okay though, you knew he had his reasons.

Leaving the bathroom you almost went straight to the front door, but when you were about to pass his bedroom, you slowed.

“Might as well grab him fresh clothes.” You decided. He had been soaking wet and smelled of blood and alcohol when he burst into your apartment. You figured if you were already in his place, might as well pick up some clean and warm comfortable clothing.

You flipped the light switch, bypassed the bed – even though it _did_ look stupidly comfortable – and went to the closet.

How was his closet even this big? Or maybe your apartment really was just that small, you couldn’t help but sigh to yourself.

“Do you own anything not overly expensive?” You hummed, trailing your hand over the fine silk shirts and pressed pants. Past the suits and looking through the drawers of ties, you were getting close to giving up. Didn’t he own comfortable Sunday clothes at the very least?

You found them finally, in another drawer in the closet. You grabbed one of his black tank tops and a pair of black sweatpants, some clean underwear and socks.

You had a bit of trouble closing the drawer, and were getting frustrated with it.

“God, come on, fucking close – ” You grunted, eventually just yanking the drawer open all the way to see what was caught.

Right in the back of the drawer was a small box, barely the size of a shoebox, stashed behind the socks.

You knew you shouldn’t look inside it. You knew that. You should shuffle it around so the drawer would close properly, leave his apartment, and go back to your own to tend to Pale. His knuckles were bleeding right that very moment, you should leave.

You took the box out, went to the bed and sat down on it.

 

You weren’t really sure what you were expecting to be inside, but this…was not it.

Letters in envelopes and old black and white photographs mostly.

It was Pale, that you could tell. A young Pale, but definitely Pale. You smiled at how his ears stuck out the way he did. He was with an even younger boy, the two of them were hugging in the front lawn of presumably their childhood home. You flipped the photograph over – _Jimmy & Robbie 1966. _

Your heart clenched, holding the photograph up to your face so you could get a better read on it. Pale had to be about fifteen here, Robbie only two or three. You weren’t entirely sure of the ages, you were never good at being able to tell that sort of thing. But they looked happy, like they were having a lot of fun.

You put it down, picked up the next one.

This one was of Pale and Robbie, but a few years older. They were outside some sort of building, but there weren’t any identifying marks on it. Robbie was wearing black tights and a black shirt, Pale was in a tank top and pants that were high on his hips. You smiled, his ears still stuck out. Flipping it over, _Jimmy dropping off Robbie for dance! 1968_

There were so many of them.

Pale sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by sheet music, his younger brother coloring on it with crayon -- _Robbie helping Jimmy write 1969_

Pale and his younger brother at a stand on Coney Island, chocolate all over his face -- _Jimmy and Robbie getting milkshakes 1969_

Pale giving his brother a piggy back ride, Pale and his brother playing tag, the two of them riding horses and cutting vegetables and laughing and smiling at one another.

1969 is where the photos all seemed to be taken place, you wondered if that was a particularly good year. You wondered what happened when 1970 rolled around.

 

Oh – that’s right, married.

You put the photographs down.

 

“Oh what the hell.” You sighed, picking up one of the envelopes. You had already invaded his privacy, might as well go for it.

 

_Jim,_

_I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of being here – tired of you. Things were great but I’m bored, and I’m afraid of you. I don’t like the way you get so angry, a temper like that is bound to be trouble. I wish I didn’t wait so long to realize it._

_I need some time, some space I think. Don’t be mad at me. I’ve taken the kids down to Miami, we’re going to stay with my parents for a while. I don’t want them around you, I don’t want them thinking your behavior is okay._

_You probably saw this coming. I didn’t want to say anything in person because I didn’t want a fight. I hope you understand._

_Don’t bother calling, I’ll reach out when the time is right._

 

 

It wasn’t even signed.

You didn’t know what made you feel worse, the fact that she had left that for Pale, or the fact that the letter looked so worn and crumpled up, like he had thrown it away and then fished it out of the trash, read it over and over again before folding it up and putting it back in its envelope.

The other envelopes were just holiday cards from the kids.

For whatever reason you decided to open up another drawer, found nothing but stacks and stacks of sheet music. There were ink blotches all over them, some had notes scribbled on the ledger lines, others just had notes written in hand-writing you couldn’t read.

Nothing was labeled of course, why would it be?

 

The rain started up again outside.

 

* * *

 

Back in your apartment, Pale was still out. The washcloth had turned pink, but it didn’t look like it was still bleeding, which made you sigh with relief.

You pulled the rest of his clothes off, shimmied the sweatpants up his long fucking legs, tugged the tank top over his head and gently pulled his arms through.

The knuckles were your first priority, and you tended to them quickly and efficiently, your hands only shaking a little.

He stirred just a bit when the alcohol pad swiped across the cuts, but you powered through it, applying the ointments and then carefully laying down gauze, wrapping the stuff around his hand and taping it securely. It wasn’t the best, but it would have to do.

Your stomach growled, you still hadn’t eaten. You weren’t entirely in the mood for soup, didn’t want to take the time to eat a whole bowl of it, so you just pulled off a piece of baguette that you had and smeared butter across it.

You brought your makeshift dinner back to the living room, pulled off all your clothes, turned off all the lights and ate the bread and butter on the floor. You didn’t even care about the crumbs, just pushed them away when they fell. You’d sweep them up in the morning, when things weren’t so raw. Right now all you wanted was to be back in his arms.

“(Y/N)?” It was like magic, like he could read minds, you thought as he groggily called your name.

You shoved the rest of the bread and butter into your mouth, and shuffled yourself to lay down on the floor in the big cocoon of blankets and pillows with him.

“Yeah Pale, I’m here.” You said, and like he didn’t have to think about it at all, he immediately wrapped his arms around you. He was sweating, overheated, not that that was something new.

“Where am I?” He mumbled, his eyes still closed but pinching shut tighter. You wondered if the moonlight was somehow too bright for him.

You pulled back enough just to look at him, his face that looked like it was filled with unease, with suffering. You couldn’t tell if it was emotional turmoil, or the physical suffering of being _so_ fucked up. Nonetheless, you pushed the hair out of his face and away from his forehead, combed your fingers through the sweaty greasy waves.

“You’re at my apartment.” You explained, trying to keep your voice soft and steady. You couldn’t help the wobble in it, still too unsure and panicked to really be calm. “We’re on the floor.”

“Okay.” Pale said.

His arms tightened around you even more, crushing you to him a little bit. He still hadn’t opened his eyes, you were wondering if he even could, or if he was feeling so out of it that his eyelids were too heavy.

“You okay?” You asked, wiping the sweat away from his neck with your hand. The pulse there thumped wildly, despite him being relatively still. It made you nervous.

“No.” He shook his head, and you had that same chest clenching feeling as you did when you were in his apartment.

“Can I help?” You asked, tried to keep the lump out of your throat.

“Let me hold you?” He asked, and you laughed just a little despite all the nerves and fear – he didn’t even realize he had you in a vice grip.

“Always, honey.” You nodded, smoothed down his hair.

 

* * *

 

 

He went back to sleep, or maybe you thought he did. You couldn’t tell. He was so sad, it hurt you. You couldn’t stop reading the letter over and over in your mind.

_I’m afraid of you. I don’t like the way you get so angry, a temper like that is bound to be trouble._

Pale wasn’t dangerous. Sure he had a temper, but it was always justified. He ain’t never done anything to you that would make you afraid of him. Even that time he had yelled, all that time ago, he was scared that you were going to be hurt, that something could happen to you.

Even that time, it had been because he cared about you.

“I’m not afraid of you.” You whispered to him.

He didn’t respond, but that was okay.

It was all okay.

 

* * *

 

 

The rain really came down hard outside.

It clanged on the fire escape something fierce, sounded like someone was dropping rocks on the metal grates. You thought off-handedly that you were glad you didn’t have any plants outside, like some of your neighbors. One of the people on the fourth floor kept damn near a whole garden on her fire escape, you wondered how the plants were faring in this weather.

You thought about what life would be like with Pale in the Spring. You wondered how he would dress in the warmer weather. Smiling, you tried to imagine him in shorts, or a t-shirt. You didn’t really see it happening in real life, but it was fun to pretend.

Pale in his shorts and a t-shirt, maybe even loafers for once, instead of those fancy lizard-skin boots. Maybe he’d help put on sunscreen all over your back and shoulders before going for a walk in Central Park. Maybe he’d wear a baseball cap at a Spring Training game.

You wondered who he rooted for, Mets or Yankees? You hoped it was the Mets.

You could see that now, the two of you getting really good seats, Pale probably knew a guy. Didn’t he know a guy for everything? You smiled, thinking about the way you’d share a soft pretzel, maybe a hot-dog. He could sip a beer and you’d drink a soda, and you’d jump out of your seat when someone would hit a home-run.

Pale wouldn’t cheer, but he might whistle, stick his fingers in his mouth and whistle in the way you’ve always wanted to learn how to do but could never get the hang of.

You sighed, brought out of your daydream by an insistent tapping on your back.

Blinking at Pale, you smiled just a little.

“What are you doing?” You asked, thinking he needed something.

“I’m playin’ your song.” He mumbled instead, making your cheeks heat right away.

“I have a song?” You wished he would open his eyes, wish he were sober. Just so that he could make some sense, just a little more sense.

He did crack an eye open at that, looked mildly offended. You smiled a little bigger, _that_ was the Pale you knew.

“O’course you have a fhuckin’ song. Don’t be ridiculous.” He scoffed, slurred his words. Still a little drunk then, drunk enough to not just wave off whatever…this was.

“How does it go?” You didn’t know if you were pushing your luck, if he’d shut down and get all closed off in the way he sometimes did. You knew not to pry, but this had you so curious.

“Like this.” He said, gong back to tapping on your back.

 

It was slow, but insistent. Like a build-up of intensity over time. You wished you knew which instruments, if it was just piano, or if there were other things too. You wondered which instruments he liked the best, which ones he knew how to play. You took piano lessons an eon ago, weren’t very good at it. But he already knew that.

He used both his hands, they were so big, splayed out across your back like the keys of that grand piano he kept in his apartment. He could probably reach half the keys all at once, you thought.

The tapping on your back moved faster and faster, up and down like he was chasing something, up and up and up your spine until finally his fingers flitted all the way back down, an impossible rhythm to figure out.

And then he slowed, and things felt softer in a way. His fingers like water over your shoulder blades, dancing notes onto the freckles on your skin.

“This part here, that’s when I finally got you back in my fucking arms again after Miami.” He whispered, and you were so taken aback by that, that you almost didn’t know what to say.

It was overwhelming in the best possible way. It was like he was pressing _I missed you_ into your skin over and over again, fingertips digging into your flesh with a different kind of passion.

Part of you wondered if this was even real, or if he were just so out of his mind that he was making it up as he went.

But he kept going and going and going and you thought no, this had to be real. This was too filled with determination, he knew exactly which keys he was pressing, exactly which notes he was bringing to life as his hands slipped along your back.

You let yourself close your eyes for the first time in what must have been hours, what felt like days, enjoying the feeling of the playing. You tried to envision it in your head, what he might be thinking, what he might be playing. You wished you knew, had some frame of reference for what it might sound like. All it felt like was morse code to you.

 

“Is it a happy song?” You asked when he finished, when his hands finally stilled and your back tickled with the phantom feeling of all the little taps and pokes.

“I don’t know.” He replied right away, making you frown just a little, making your stomach do those nervous flips.

This wasn’t the part of your story where he told you he hated you…was it?

“What do you mean?” You had to know, but he shrugged, only making your stomach knot up tighter.

“Well, it don’t got any real meaning to it or anything. There’s no story. It’s just feeling, you know? How you make me feel.” He said.

“How do I make you feel?”

“Like I’m dyin’.”

You blinked at that, your heart sinking.

“That doesn’t sound very happy.” You whispered, and he must have started to sober up enough to realize, immediately shaking his head and shifting the both of yous around so that you were tucked so close to him, held so lovingly against him that all he could do was kiss your temple over and over again.

“No, that’s not – ” He started, cutting himself off and pausing for a moment to try and figure out what he wanted to say.

“I don’t know what to do with you. I keep fuckin’ waiting for something bad to happen and it never comes. I’m on the edge of my fuckin’ seat all the time, wonderin’ when you’re gonna finally have enough. I can’t take it sometimes, you’re too sweet to me, too good and nice. My heart feels like it’s gonna burst when I look at you, like I gotta rip it right out of my fuckin’ throat. I don’t got the words, you know? I don’t know the words to describe it other than that.”

“I love you, you know that?” You blurted out.

 

It felt like the rain stilled.

 

Like all the traffic outside stopped. There were no sirens, no barking dogs in small apartments, there were no death and disease and AIDs and boat crashes and shitty wives.

 

All there was, was you and Pale in your shitty apartment with the leaky tub and you _loved him._

 

“How’s that?” He asked, sounding so sober that you wondered if shock had the power to do that, to dispel all the coke and the alcohol and the sadness and rage you knew was tucked into your lover.

Because that’s what he was. He was your man, your lover. He was the person you spent all your time thinking about, all your energy caring about. And he cared about you too. You knew he did. You had heard him.

 

He didn’t know, didn’t think that you did, but you did. You heard it every night, when you pretended to be asleep against his chest, when you pretended to snore just to maybe get a glimpse at the inside of his heart.

You didn’t blame him, for being so guarded with it. You didn’t blame him – how could you? How could you be mad or upset with him, considering the way he had been treated the last time? Been treated for so long?

“I love you.” You said it again. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time. I know I love you. You don’t have to say it back, if it’s hard. You don’t have to. I know.” You knew, you knew you knew you knew it was hard, it had to be hard for him.

“You do?” He asked, and you couldn’t tell if he was referring to the love, or the hardship, or all of it, or none of it.

“I do. I found the box, in your closet.” You said, apropos of nothing, like how he had dropped the information that he had kids out of nowhere. You couldn’t think of an organic way to work it into whatever this was – was it a conversation? Or was it an exchange of admissions?

“Oh.” He said, and you didn’t know.

“We don’t have to talk about it. I just didn’t feel right not telling you. ” You were honest, always wanted to be honest with him. You loved him, and he deserved honesty.

If nothing else, he deserved honesty.

He was quiet for a long time.

 

The rain softened for a couple minutes, but revved back up again. Thunder and lightning cracked outside. You had never seen this much rain in your whole life, you thought. Not so soon after New Year’s, anyway. You wondered if it was all that smog, all the bullshit pollution being ferried up into the atmosphere. Maybe it was fucking with the weather.

Pale was quiet until he wasn’t, asking, “What did you think?”

“I thought you had the cutest ears I’ve ever seen.” You replied right away, making him laugh.

It was the first time he had ever laughed so unguarded.

“That’s funny.” He said, redundantly.

“I like the name Jimmy.” You smiled.

He shook his head, but thankfully he didn’t seem too mad, didn’t seem angry or anything. He kept smiling, just the slightest little thing, just the prick up of his lips in the corner of his mouth – but it was enough to show off those dimples of his, and your heart soared. You loved when he smiled.

You loved him.

“That’s what my wife calls me.” He grimaced, before laughing again. You wondered what was going on in his head.

“I wasn’t gonna change to it, I just thought you should know that I like it. I like Pale too.” You hummed, and he kissed your temple again.

“Y’know how I got that name?” He asked, his words fuzzy and slurred still.

“No.” You shook your head on his chest.

“Fifteen fucking years ago maybe, I’m sitting in this bar. Minding my own business, I ask the bartender if he’s got any brandy. He says, ‘of course I got fuckin’ brandy, what do I look like?’ So I says, ‘okay but do you got any top shelf shit?’ – Because you know me, I don’t drink nothin’ cheap. And I say, ‘any V.S.O.P?’ Very Special Old Pale. V.S.O.P. And the guy’s eyes fuckin’ _light up._ Guess he hadn’t had someone ask for something that nice in a long time. So he pours me some, and I pay the tab and I leave.”

“Mhm.” You encouraged, letting your eyes close again, letting the rumble of his chest lull you.

“Well he’s a real nice fuckin’ fella, so I go back the next night. Who do I got to go home to, my fucking wife who already hates me? A screaming two year old she won’t let me take care of? Nah. So I go back to the fuckin’ bar, and I do a couple lines with the bartender, and I ask for more of that V.S.O.P.”

Thunder cracked outside, lightning illuminating the room for a split second. You could see the light even with your eyes closed. Pale kinda felt like that, you thought.

Seeing even with your eyes closed.

“So after a week or two of pullin’ this shit, he don’t even ask anymore, just slides me a glass of Pale. And I get known as Pale. I ain’t ever introduced myself otherwise ever since.” He concluded his story.

“That’s a funny story.” You said with a smile.

“How’s that?” He asked, a smile in his own voice too.

“What if you had ordered something else?” You mused, propping your chin up on his chest to look at him.

He went all hazy cross-eyed to try and get a glimpse of you at the angle he was, lifted his head just a little. You smiled at the way he got a bunch of chins when he did that, you stretched your neck up to kiss them, press little smooches there, making him shy away from being too ticklish.

“Instead of brandy, what if you ordered a glass of wine? Then you might be known as Cabernet. Cab.” You laughed.

“Like a fuckin’ taxi cab?” Pale laughed too, and you laughed again.

Thunder cracked and the rain panged down, but you loved him and you laughed.

“Yeah. Pale’s much better.” You chuckled, winding down again but still humming, amused.

“You really love me?” He looked at you with real clear eyes, and you nodded.

“I really do.” You said.

He held his hand up, looked at it in the near pitch-black room.

“I chucked my ring, right off the fuckin’ pier. It’s at the bottom of the ocean. Hope no dolphin or nothing eats it. I ain’t ever felt so light, without it on like this.” He said, and ah, that’s where it had gone.

You thought he maybe would have kept it in a box, maybe stuck it along with the letter and photographs. Memories that might be too painful to deal with, but too important to throw out.

Something about the fact that he had really just tossed it in the ocean felt monumental to you. Like maybe he was yours, maybe he would stick around with you and you were his to keep too.

“You have a tan line there.” You held his hand right up to your face, squinted at the finger. Sure enough there was a little band of lighter skin. You kissed it, noticed the tremor that was running through his hands.

“Yeah, only took the fuckin’ thing off maybe twice the whole time I had it. You believe that? Twice. Once to get it polished on our ten year fuckin’ anniversary, and then to toss it. She wasn’t even wearing hers, when I saw her. I wonder if she pawned it off or just stuck it in a drawer somewhere. It was expensive, you know?” He sighed.

You kissed the palm of his hand, he smoothed it over your face, cupped your cheek with it. He liked to grab at your face, you noticed. Like to hold it in his hands, cradle it. You smiled.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You pointed out.

“I’d buy you expensive shit, if you wanted it.” Pale pointed out too.

“I don’t need anything – ” You started, but he interrupted you real quick.

“I know you don’t. Boggles my fuckin’ mind. I want to spend money on you, you know? Who the fuck else am I gonna spend it on? I know you don’t need nothing. I want you to have nice shit. I already buy you nice shit. Got a whole fuckin’ closet filled with nice shit I’ve picked up for you over the past few fuckin’ months.” He sighed, his eyes closed again.

“Really?” You asked, frowning. How come he had never said anything? What the hell had he bought you?

“Really. I’m always too afraid to give it to you, too afraid you’re gonna say you don’t want it – that you don’t want me. I know you don’t need this shit, I know. I know you ain’t helpless. You’re a big girl, you can take care of yourself. But…I want to take care of you, you know? I want to make sure you ain’t got nothing to want for. I don’t give shit to you because I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m like a fuckin’ sugar daddy or nothing, that I only want you for sex or nothing. Not that the sex ain’t great, I fuckin’ love the sex, I’m just – I don’t know – I – ” He was losing it again, and you shushed him gently.

“I know.” You said, placing your hand over his, the one on your cheek. He was shaking, poor thing couldn’t stop shaking. “I know, me too.”

You closed your eyes and he closed his.

The rain went on and on, and you were exhausted, and he was still _so_ drunk but you felt good.

It felt good to get it out in the open, that you loved him.

He didn’t need to say it back. You knew he did. You could tell, just by looking at him – just by virtue that he was _there_ , that he called your place home.

He wasn’t going to say it, and that was okay, you loved him anyway.


	9. Happy

He woke up with the worst fucking headache he had ever had. Well, maybe not, but at least it was the worst headache he could remember. Where the fuck was he?

 

_“You’re at my apartment.” You had explained, your voice warm and soft like it always was when you were talking to him. There was the smallest wobble in it, like you were trying not to cry. “We’re on the floor.”_

 

A fragment of a memory returned to him and explained just a little – why the fuck was he on the floor?

Oh, right.

He propped himself up onto his elbows, looked around, tried to get his bearings. You were sleeping next to him, right on the fucking concrete with him. He frowned, sat up all proper.

He remembered making it to the couch before blacking out, remembered your hands on him right as he went. He looked down at himself, he was wearing none of his clothes from the night before. He was in soft sweats and a tank top, where was his jacket? He looked around – you had hung it up on the coat hook by the door.

You had also shoved pillows under his head and threw a blanket over the both of you, some sort of attempt at comfort.

He swallowed the hard lump in his throat from thinking about how you had stayed with him right there, right on the fucking floor with him, instead of retreating to your own comfortable bed. He liked that you stayed. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. After all this time, he figured maybe he’d have gotten a fuckin’ grip by now, but one look at you and all hope of that had flown right out the damn window.

He watched you for a bit, watched how your breathing made your chest rise and fall. He was in so deep, too deep with you. He knew that. Somehow, it didn’t scare the shit out of him.

Maybe it did, but he was too numb to feel it this time.

_“I’m not afraid of you.” You had said._

It was still dark outside, not anywhere near close to sunrise.

He could go back to sleep, but his stomach rumbled too loud for him to even bother.

He stayed still, kept watching you. Fuck it wasn’t fair to wake you up, he knew that. You probably hadn’t gotten any real fuckin’ sleep as it was, watching over him and taking care of him. His chest did a little hiccup at that, the thought of you taking care of him. Nobody’d ever really done that before.

His stomach growled again and he groaned, starving but not wanting to be away from you, not for even one fuckin’ second.

“Hey.” He whispered, shook you awake a little. “(Y/N), wake up.”

“Hmm?” You asked, face pinching in a frown, your eyes still closed. Even with your brow furrowed like this you looked like a god damned angel. It wasn’t fair, he knew that, but he put his hand on your cheek and shook a little more.

“I’m fuckin’ starving over here, come with me to grab a bite to eat.” He licked his lips, kissing your face. He hoped the kisses would sweeten the deal a little.

“Mmmmokay.” You said, blinking awake, nuzzling your nose against his as he pressed little kisses all over. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see my watch.” He kissed and coaxed you up so that you were sitting up on the floor, your naked body shining in the light of the moon, light glinting just a little off the chain around your neck. He didn’t know how to process the fact that you were still wearing it, that you’d always been wearing it.  

It was drizzling outside, Pale vaguely remembered rain from last night. He really couldn’t remember much else. His stomach growled.

“Where do you wanna go?” You asked, drawing the covers over your chest to keep the chill away. Your nipples got hard anyway, Pale leaned forward to press his face into your cleavage, kiss and warm up the skin there.  

“There a Mickey Ds around?” He asked, and you nodded with a smile.

“Yeah like five minutes away. We gonna go through the drive-thru?” You asked, stretched and yawned and let out a big sigh.

“Yeah.” Pale said against your skin. The more he touched you, the less he wanted to go.

“Okay then I’m not putting any shoes on.” You said, giving a sleepy smile. He kissed it right off of you and stood up, the joints in his knees and back cracking from being on such a hard surface for so long.

“Okay.” He said, watching you get up too, watching you walk across the living room to your bedroom.

He watched and waited until you were pulling on a loose t-shirt and some sleep-shorts, the red ones with the little penguins all over them, nothing fancy. You were barefoot true to your word, but Pale thought you were going to freeze to death so when the two of yous walked to the front door, he wrapped his big leather jacket around you, made you stick your arms through the sleeves and bundled you up tight.

You looked ridiculous in the fucking thing, it was maybe three sizes too big, probably stupidly fuckin’ heavy, and completely hid your figure.

He never ever wanted you to take it off.

 

* * *

 

 

“You want anything?” Pale asked when he pulled up to the drive-thru.

It wasn’t glamourous or nothing, but it was the only place he could think of to get shitty, cheap, greasy fast food this late. Or was it early? The clock on his car said it was a little after five in the morning. He knew 24/7 diners existed, but you weren’t even wearing a bra or panties or nothin’, no shoes. No shirt no shoes no service.

“No thanks.” You yawned, wrapped your arms around yourself even though Pale had the heat on in the car while the two of yous waited for the line to move a little bit.

The rain had pretty much stopped, it felt like droplets hung in the air, coating the whole fuckin’ city. The roads were wet, his windshield had lots of little fuckin’ water spots that better not dry splotchy on the black paint of his car. He’d bring it in to get washed later, didn’t want dirty fuckin’ rain staining nothing. The Mickey Ds was just off the main road, and occasionally the red and blue lights of a cop would speed past. Pale wondered what kinda crime assholes could get up to this early.

He couldn’t stop looking at you in that jacket of his. He couldn’t fucking explain it but something about it made him so protective, possessive. He loved your bed head, loved the way the jacket swallowed you whole, like it was some big heavy blanket made of leather and metal zips. He wanted to get you home, fuck you in just that jacket and your chain. It’d smell like sex but to be fuckin’ honest that jacket had smelled like worse in the time he’s had it. Maybe it could do with some of your sweat and come staining the leather.

He inched up until he was finally at the speaker, rolled the window down.

“Welcome to McDonald’s what can I get ya?” Some poor overworked piece of shit asked, none too pleased to be there at five a.m.

“Lemme get two quarter-pounders with cheese and large fry and a large coke.” Pale said automatically, his standard order for times like this.

“That it?” The kid asked, sounding bored.

“Yeah.” Pale replied, equally enthusiastic.

“Drive up.” The kid said, and Pale did…all of two feet.

The line really shouldn’t be this fucking long, Pale thought as he put the car in park. There were at least six people ahead of him, and he couldn’t fucking figure out why – shouldn’t all these assholes be in bed?

“Looks like we ain’t the only people with this idea.” You yawned, still sleepy in the passenger seat.

“Whatever, as long as I get my fuckin’ burgers, you know?” He hummed, leaned over just enough to put a hand on your thigh, give it a good rub. He liked how your skin felt, you were still sleep-warm.

“Mhm.” You nodded, scooching over so that you were as close to him as possible. He wished he had bench seats or something so you could get right up next to him, but his chest hurt at you tryin’.

You laid your head on his shoulder, and fiddled with the volume knob on the cassette player he had built into the dashboard of the car. Classical music softly played in the background as the two of you sat in the line, waiting for a car to get their order so Pale could pull up a bit.

 

_“How do I make you feel?”_

_“Like I’m dyin’.”_

 

He wished he could remember more. He cursed the fucking alcohol.

Once the two of you were out of the view of the window and just waiting around, Pale ran a hand through your hair, tugged your face over to meet his and kissed you real fuckin’ deep. You hummed happily into his mouth, licked and sucked at his bottom lip.

One of your hands drifted to his crotch, rubbed just a little. He was always so fucking ready for you that you only really had to look at his dick for it to get hard, so he was tensing up just at the slight brush of your fuckin’ fingers. It didn’t help that he was in sweatpants, which did abso-fucking-lutely nothing to hide his boner.

“Suck my dick while we wait?” Pale asked, and you gave an amused little chuckle, tucked your hair behind your ears.

“Okay.” You said, and Pale held his breath as he inched forward again, just a little.

You bent over completely, pushed Pale’s sweatpants down just enough to get his hard cock out, give it a few pumps. Your hands felt so damn good on him, too good. He clenched his jaw, turned the music up on the cassette in case he accidentally let a sound slip out.

Chopin filled the car as you licked a stripe up his cock, ran your tongue in the slit on the head of it, making him groan. He let one hand loosely tangle in the hair at the back of your neck, held you in place as you swirled your tongue around him.

He inched up just a bit more, four fucking cars to go.

You opened your throat and took him down as far as you could go, tongue flat and throat so fucking hot and wet – and then you _sucked_ and he fisted your hair hard, bucked up into your mouth. His head thumped against the headrest, and he tried to even his breathing, other hand gripping the steering wheel.

“Shit honey.” He grit out, letting his eyes close for what felt like an eternity, and he could swear he felt you fuckin’ smile against him.

You bobbed your head up and down, sliding his length in and out of your throat, getting drool and spit everywhere. Fuck, it made him so hard to see you sloppy like that, and he groaned again when you used all of that wetness to slick up your hand, kiss his stomach as you jerked him off.

“Faster,” Pale grunted out, inching up.

Three more cars.

You went faster, the slick sound of your hand on his cock turning him on. He wished he had a cigarette, he was getting all fucking wound up, needed – you knew what he needed apparently, were some kinda mind reader, because your mouth wrapped around him again and you hollowed out your cheeks and took him as deep as you could, until your nose was brushing up against his dark pubic hair and you were choking, choking while giving him head in the fucking fast food drive through.

God what an angel you were.

He gripped your hair and held you down as he came, pumped your throat full of his come, wanted you to feel it slide down, and you did like the good fucking girl you were, he could feel you swallowing against him.

When the two of you pulled up to the second window to get Pale’s food, you were tucked back in your seat and Pale’s cock was back in his sweatpants, and when Pale handed over the cash, the guy at the register was none the wiser.  

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, this is real shit food.” Pale grimaced, taking another bite out of the burger twenty minutes later.

The two of you were sitting out on the fire escape, waiting for the sun to rise. You, now fully awake like Pale, had dragged a couple of towels outside and laid them out so the both of yas wouldn’t have to sit on the cold wet metal scaffold of the fire escape.

You were still wearing his jacket, sipping a cup of coffee you had brewed up real fast, some instant shit, nothing good like what you made at the diner.

“Then why are you eating it?” You laughed, giving him the sweetest damn smile. He hated how much he liked seeing your smile, how much he liked seeing you sleep-rumpled and happy.

He had to wipe that smile off your face, tried kissin’ it away, but that only made the fuckin’ thing bigger. He took another bite of the shitty burger.

“Greasy food’s good for the kinda headache I got.” He shrugged, reaching into the bag and huffing, “Next time I’m gonna get two fuckin’ fries.”

“Sorry.” You smiled as you sipped your coffee, not sorry in the fuckin’ least.

You had eaten half the damn thing of fries on the way back to your apartment, even though he had asked you if you wanted anything and you said no. Learned his fuckin’ lesson with that one he did. Not that he was angry, but shit.  

“Nah, don’t be. I like when you eat up, you make me nervous sometimes.” He said around a big bite.

“I make you nervous?” You laughed, snorting into your coffee enough to make some of it splatter, hitting his bare arm.

“Why’s that so fuckin’ funny?” He asked with a frown as you tried not to laugh too loud, conscious of your neighbors.

“Because you’re the one blacking out in my living room, honey.” You rolled your eyes at him, another round of chuckles making your shoulders shake just a little.  

“Listen – ” Pale’s stomach swooped, suddenly feeling ill. He had forgotten all about that, all about everything. Were you mad? Were you upset with him? Were you –

“I don’t mind, you know?” You said quickly, reassuringly. Definitely some kinda mind reader. “I don’t mind. I’m glad you came to me, glad you knew I’d be there for you.” You pressed yourself against him, put your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” He said, tentatively putting an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, squishing you to him. “I know it ain’t easy…dealin’ with me sometimes. Thank you for not kickin’ me out.”

“What could I do you were already on the floor.” You shrugged. Pale groaned, but you pressed a kiss to his chin and smiled, smoothing the arm closest to him around his waist to hold on to him too. “I’m joking.”

“I know.” He said, a lump still stuck in his fuckin’ throat. He wasn’t going to cry, he kept telling himself that, but it was like he was chokin’ on words he didn’t know how to say. “But I mean it.”

“I know.” You nodded against him, and there it was again – that wonder at how you were so easy goin, so accepting. He didn’t deserve it, Pale knew that, knew he was a giant fucking mess right now and didn’t deserve your love and – “You gotta go to work today?”

You interrupted his internal spiral, helped him get a grip on himself. He sighed, let out a tension in his shoulders he didn’t know was even there. You rubbed soothing circles on his lower back where your hand was resting, sipped your coffee.

The sun started to rise.

“Yeah, fuckers got everything all god damned twisted with the ordering so I gotta go down to the docks and settle some shit.” Pale pinched his nose, didn’t want to have to fucking deal with that this early, but he knew that once the sun was in the sky he was going to have to go. Every single atom in his body screamed at him to stay with you instead.

“Want me to go with you?” You asked, and wouldn’t that be an idea?

Bringing you down to the docks so you could watch him threaten some jackasses into actually doing what the fuck he pays them to do. He almost said yes, almost blurted out that they’d leave right the fuck now – the sooner he got there the better – when he turned to look at you, and really _look_ at you.

You were exhausted, he could see that. You had dark circles under your eyes that he could see now that light was bathing the city, deep gold that washed over everything and reflected off the rain on the streets. Your eyes were a little dull, still beautiful as ever, but dull. He didn’t want to drag you around the cold docks with him, not after all the other bullshit he put you through in the past couple hours.

“No baby, I want you to get some sleep. And I mean real fuckin’ sleep, no more of that on the floor bullshit.” Pale said, pinching at your cheek, your nose, making you smile.

“Hey I did the best I could, I couldn’t fucking lift your huge ass – ” You started, but he kissed you real quick.

“I’m jokin’.” He echoed your earlier sentiment, and you rolled your eyes, kissed him back.

“Ha ha.” You scoffed, stealing another one of his french fries. Pale wondered if he had enough time to fuck you before he had to leave.  

“You know, I don’t think I’ve liked a sunrise in a real long time.” He huffed, taking a sip of his soda. He wrinkled his nose at it, offended at the fuckin’ carbonation. “Start of another day and all that. Another day another problem. That’s how I used to think but right about now you know what I’m thinkin’?”

“What are you thinkin’?” You asked.

“I’m thinkin’ that you’re the prettiest god damned woman I’ve ever seen, all the gold all over you. Sunrise never looked so good.” He said, leaning down to kiss you again and again and again. Little presses with barely any tongue, neither of you had brushed your teeth yet.

“Do you remember anything you said last night? Or that I said?” You asked, looking him right in the eyes, those tired eyes of yours tinted with curiosity.

Pale’s stomach started to twist again, and he frowned.

“We were talking about shit? I thought you said I was out cold.” He went real still, wracking his brain for any sort of memory of the night before, anything at all. He was getting himself fucking frustrated, all he remembered was knocking into some furniture, and then blackness.

“You woke up when I was putting you back together. You didn’t say anything too crazy.” You took his hand, ran a finger over the bandage.

He watched you do it, always watching you. Were you real?

“Did you?” He asked, swallowing a hard lump in his throat. He did remember something, remembered but wasn’t sure if it was real, if it was just a dream his fucked up brain came up with. What a sick joke that would be.

“Just that I love you.” You shrugged, like it was nothing big, like it was the most breezy, natural thing to say in the whole fucking world. And that was it, wasn’t it? You loved him. It hadn’t been a dream.

You had welcomed him with open arms and fixed him up and slept next to him on the floor and you loved him.

“That is pretty crazy.” He said back, and you grinned.

He took another bite.

 

* * *

 

 

He left only after you were snoozing in your fucking bed. He took the time to make sure you were wearing clean warm clothes and properly tucked in and wouldn’t go rollin’ off one way or the other. Last thing he needed was you getting’ a fucking concussion while he was gone.

The trip to the docks was uneventful, which Pale was more than grateful for. He had a short enough fuse as it was, he really didn’t need to be tempted right now. Not while his hand was healing anyway.

Surprisingly, the restaurant didn’t need that much attention that day. He knew it would pick up a lot in the evening, but the lunch rush wasn’t nothin’ too terrible. Cook didn’t show up, so he was stuck working in the kitchen, which was fine because it made the hours fly by.

Before he knew it, he was grabbing his jacket and heading out the door, was hell-bent on getting something accomplished outside the fuckin’ restaurant.

“I’m going on my lunch break,” Pale announced to everyone in the back. “If anybody needs me – don’t.”

The staff all mumbled a short acknowledgement before returning to their own work as the door swung shut behind Pale.

He lit a cigarette once he got to his car, breathed in the nicotine real slow before turning on the engine. He had one destination in mind, something had been knockin’ around his noggin for a while now, and he figured no time like the present to act on it.

Driving along he stole glances at the city around him. It was a hellhole, that was for fuckin’ sure, but maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Maybe it was just as much of a hellhole as Manhattan, or Jersey. But maybe that was just you talking, making him soft. He’d love to fucking take you away from here, bring you somewhere real nice, for a weekend, for a week, forever.

He turned onto 34th street and parked in the diner’s lot. He knew you weren’t working today, obviously, but he wasn’t here for you, for once.  

“Pale! Good to see you again.” The elderly man who ran the joint, Fish, greeted him as he stepped through the doors.

Pale had been to the diner a fuckton of times, and every time it seemed to be jam-packed with people. This time was no exception, and Pale was impressed to see that there were so few tables open. He was even more impressed that the old man had remembered his name, just because you’d only introduced him once before.

“Fischel right? Real good to see you too.” Pale said as warmly as he could, making his way through the crowded place to get to the milkshake bar where Fish was wiping down the counter.

“Pull up a chair wherever you’d like, someone’ll be with ya soon.” He smiled at Pale, and Pale cleared his throat, puffed on his cigarette.

“Oh, I was actually wantin’ to talk to you, but it looks pretty fuckin’ busy.” He looked around, had to press himself close to the counter to let a waitress pass. “I can come back later?” He offered, but Fish waved it away.

“You want to talk to me? Oy I’m not in any trouble am I?” He laughed, “Follow me.”

Pale walked around the counter and followed Fish to the back of the diner, down a small hallway and into an office. It was kept real tidy, surprisingly. He noticed that Fish had lots of pictures taped up on the wall, of him and his wife, his family, and even a couple of you posing with who Pale could only guess were Fish’s nieces and nephews.

“Not in trouble, I actually thought about proposin’ somethin’ to ya.” Pale said, trying his best not to knock anything over as Fish got settled in the spinny chair behind his desk.

“You have my blessing to ask her.” Fish smiled real wide, and Pale almost choked on his cigarette on the inhale.

“What?” He coughed, making Fish frown and backtrack.

“Oh, nevermind, I thought – ”

“No! I mean – I – ” Pale stumbled, no there was no fuckin’ way, well maybe not no way, but definitely no way, he couldn’t even begin to get into how that could never fucking happen – “Not _no,_ but that’s not what I’m here about.”

Fischel regarded Pale carefully, leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk in a way that looked a little more threatening that it probably should be, coming from a man who had to be in his fuckin’ seventies.

“Before you tell me anything, I gotta say something first.” Fish said, and Pale took the hint to sit down in one of the hard chairs opposite of Fischel’s.

“Christ, am _I_ in trouble?” Pale muttered, putting the cigarette out in the little ashtray on Fish’s desk.

“I don’t know.” Fish said, and for the first time in a long fucking time, Pale was nervous. “I’ve known (Y/N) for a long fuckin’ time. She’s like a daughter to me; she comes over for the holidays and knows my family, my wife, my brothers – everyone. And in all the time I’ve known her, she ain’t never had someone to be there for her in the way that I’m assuming you’re there for her.”

“Never?” Pale frowned, and Fish shook his head.

“Nope. She’s been doing everything on her own for as long as I can remember, for too long. And I gotta be honest, it was eating away at her. I know it was. It ain’t good to be so alone. She’s only got a couple of close friends but even then she don’t hang out with them too often. She knows everybody in the fuckin’ neighborhood and all their birthdays and all their kids’ names but at night every night she’s been by herself. That ain’t life, Pale. So to see her suddenly be so fuckin’ happy these past few months was a shock and a surprise I never knew we needed.”

“She’s happy?” Pale asked, jaw clenched. It was too good to be true, somehow, too good to be real. “Like, really happy?”

“She is. And I think it’s because she’s found someone to be close to.” He looked at Pale pointedly.

“Is this the part where you tell me you’ll kill me if I hurt her?” Pale crossed his arms, offended that Fish would even suggest a fuckin’ thing like that.

“I ain’t gonna kill you.” Fish shook his head, crossing his arms too and leaning back in his chair. “I’m gonna rip you apart piece by piece and feed you to my dogs if you hurt her.”

After a moment or two, they both broke out into a bit of a smile, and Fish held his hand out for Pale to shake.

“I like you, Fischel.” Pale smiled, somehow relieved, somehow feeling not so nervous. He really had gotten his blessing, huh?

“I like you too, don’t give me any reason not to, you know?” Fish said, relaxing his demeanor almost immediately.

“I ain’t plannin’ on it, I can promise you that.” Pale said, “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole fuckin’ life. I’m workin’ on something for her, something special. She deserves all the good shit in the world.”

“She does.” Fish replied with a nod of his head and a quirk of his brow, “Now go ahead and tell me whatever the hell you wanted to tell me.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Can I ask you a question?” Pale asked you hours later, when the two of you were in bed after dinner.

“You just did.” You responded, your head on his chest.

He hadn’t fucked you yet, but he could feel it coming soon. For once he allowed himself to just be close to you, while the dishes soaked in the sink he shed all his clothes and climbed into bed and just pulled you to him, wanted to feel your heartbeat.

“Don’t be a brat.” He pinched your shoulderblade and you laughed.

“Sorry.” You smiled against his chest, kissed at the divot between his pecs.

“No you’re not.” He rolled his eyes, and you just hummed out a little laugh again.

“Your question?” You prompted him, making it real fuckin’ hard to concentrate when you were kissing at him like that. But then again you probably fuckin’ knew that, you menace. That’s what you were, a menace.

“What do you wanna do? Like in life.” He asked, and you thought about that for a minute.

He wanted to know why you started waitressin’, if you had ever wanted to do something else, be something else. You were smart, you were talented, you could do anything. His family was so fucking connected, not that he really talked to any of them. He would though, if you wanted to do something, anything. He’d repair a whole year of damage in a phone call if it would help you realize some fuckin’ pipe dream or something.

“Is it cliché to say that I want to be happy?” You responded, throwing him a curveball.

Was that cliché? Wasn’t that what everyone wanted, in the end? He thought about the world, thought about all the shit going on, all the death and fighting and drugs and crime – and that was in his own backyard. It was all real fuckin’ bleak, if he thought about it hard enough. But wasn’t that what everyone was chasing, somehow someway? What was the meaning of life if not to be happy?

“No, I don’t think so.” He answered, and you snuggled close to him.

“Then I want to be happy.” You said simply.

“Are you happy?” He asked.

Now that Fish had brought it up, it was all he could think about.

“Are _you?_ ” You asked back, with a raised eyebrow and a frown.

“Yeah, I think I am. Don’t really know, never really felt like this before.” He admitted, the truth coming forward a lot easier now. He wasn’t sure he would have ever been able to admit that just a couple months ago, but something about you made it real easy to let the truth out. “You know my whole life I’ve been trying to make other people happy. But I think I’m finally in a good place, or I’m startin’ to get there.”

“I’m happy.” You nodded, tracing random shapes on his chest. “I wasn’t, for a long time. But then I was okay, you know? Just working hard and doin’ my best. And then I met you, and now yeah, I’m happy.”

He looked down at you, stared at you real fuckin’ serious-like.

“You ain’t just sayin’ that? Because I don’t want you to regret this, later down the line.” He said, thinking of a certain someone, thinking of a couple people who had once said the same shit, and then fucked him over anyway. “I don’t want you to wake up one day and resent me or nothing. If you ain’t happy, you gotta tell me, gotta tell me what you want. Okay?”

“Okay Pale.” You shuffled up the bed a little, straddled his waist and brought his hand to your lips, gave it a kiss. “But I’m happy, I promise.”

“Okay.” Pale sighed, smiled as you kissed his hand.

“And for the record,” You grinned against his palm, “I don’t think you’re like a sugar daddy or anything like that. I don’t love you for your money or your connections at fancy restaurants or any of that. You could be dirt poor and you’d still take up the whole space in my heart.”

You placed his hand over your chest, and Pale breathed in time with the heartbeat there.

“But I’m not dirt poor.” Pale said, slowly sitting up too, caging you in with his arms.

“Yeah I know, hotshot. I just want you to know that whatever happens, I’m gonna be there for you as long as you want me.” You said, and Pale leaned in to kiss you, his own pulse going fuckin’ wild.

“Don’t go sayin’ shit like that, I’m gonna think you mean it.” He said real soft, his lips hovering just over yours, the ghost of a kiss.

Your eyes slipped closed, and so did his, and the two of you just reveled in the closeness for a minute or two.

“I do, I do mean it.” You said, making his stomach tighten in a good way.

“Even when I’m old and bald?” He asked, could feel the huff of your laugh even with his eyes closed.

“You’re not going to lose your hair, Pale.”

“ _(Y/N)_.” He urged, and you laughed out loud, looped your arms around his neck and carded a hand through his hair that he knew he wasn’t going to lose, even if he was starting to get a few greys every now and then.

“You could be bald and fat and wrinkly and I’m not going to love you any less.” You smiled, kissed him.

He licked into your mouth, his hands spanning your back and sliding down to your hips, pulling your ass closer as you situated yourself in his lap. He slid his hands around your front, dipped one into the waistband of your sleep-pants. You weren’t wearing underwear, and you were wet for him, your pussy warm and so fucking inviting.

You squirmed in his lap as he ran his fingers lightly over your slit, pushing in just enough to tease you.

“What if my cock don’t work?” He breathed into your mouth, you pressing your cunt down onto his hand, a silent plea.

“Then we’ll be regulars at the sex shop on fourth avenue. You ain’t gettin’ off the hook that easy.” You grinned, and Pale nodded, not that he was really worried in the first fucking place. With how hard he was for you? He was sure that would never fucking go away.

“Okay.” He licked his lips, buried his face in your neck and fingered you open nice and slow for him. He could feel you sweating, could feel you getting nice and slick for his – fully functioning – cock.

“Listen,” You said, running your hand through his hair, moaning just the littlest bit as he lightly grazed your clit. “I don’t know what your marriage was like, with her. And we don’t have to talk about it now, or ever if you don’t want to. But I’m not like her, you know? I’m not going to push you away or shut you out or anything. If you piss me off, I’m going to say something. But so far, you haven’t done anything to piss me off.”

“But I’m going to, I always do.” Pale’s hand stilled, and you shook your head.

“Then we’ll deal with it like adults. I’m willing to put in effort if you are. I want you.” You said, and he smiled then – that was the first time someone had ever said that to him.

He flipped you on your back, kissed you hard.

“You love me.” Pale said, lined up his cock and pushed in in one hard thrust.

“Yes!” You gasped out, arched underneath him, all long lines and soft supple skin. He wanted to suck a thousand hickeys onto you, wanted you all red and purple and mottled, wanted everyone to know you were his.

“Say it again you slut.” He said, pulling out and thrusting in sharply, making your nipples go rock hard. Fuck he loved watching them stiffen, he kissed down your neck, pushed you around and pulled at your tits to get them right in biting distance.

“I love you, Pale.” You moaned as his hips steadily fucked into you, pushing his cock deeper and deeper the more you relaxed and spread your legs for him. “I love you!”

He growled, you were _his,_ fuck you were so good, so warm and wet and tight for him. He pressed a hand onto your throat, felt you swallow against him as you let your eyes pinch closed, mouth open as you moaned. He spit into it, spared a couple fingers to shove into your mouth, smear it around.

He fucked you hard, balls slapping against you, the squelch of your cunt like music to his god damned ears. He could do this forever, wanted to, he really fucking wanted to. He pressed down on your throat and gripped your jaw, held you tight in his fucking fist as his other hand hiked up your leg.  

“Again.” He demanded, baring his teeth.

Your hands flew up to his shoulders, digging and scratching into the muscle there. The sting felt amazing, felt real and grounded him, grounded him as he pushed you up the fucking bed with his thrusts. Everything was so fucking good, shit you were so wet for him, how were you so perfect?

“I love you.” You moaned, face red and splotchy, chest flushed and sweating. Pale wanted to lick up the salt on your sternum, wanted to come all over you and make you rub it around, rub it into your skin, make you his inside and out. “I’m your whore and I love you – Pale!”

You yelped a little when he pulled your hips up and changed the angle, shifting so that his cock brushed right against your gspot, rubbed at your walls deeper. He could feel that he was hitting your cervix, so deep, deep enough that he was completely buried inside you.

“Fuck – ” He was so consumed by you, all the fucking time he was just completely swallowed up by you. By your cunt, by your heart, it was all too fucking much.

He didn’t know what to do, wanted to blurt out something stupid, something too much, something that he’d have to live with – and he didn’t know if he could yet, didn’t fucking know. All he knew was your pussy was so good, the best he’d ever had, he wanted to live there, wanted to fuck you forever.

He dragged you down the bed just a little, all his thrusting had pushed you practically onto the fucking headboard and he didn’t want to knock you out or nothing. But even just pulling you down had you smiling, like this was fun, like fucking him was more than just getting an orgasm at the end of it.

“Say it again.” He demanded, and you scratched up his back, his chest.

“I’m your whore and I’m in love with you.” You said so easy, moaned high and loud, toes curling and knees drawing up around his waist.

You tossed your head to the side and your chest heaved, drooling on the fucking pillow as Pale reached down and pressed hard at your clit, making you shout out his name. Fuck he loved it when you shouted his name, when you opened your throat and just fucking yelled it. He wanted you to be loud, wanted the neighbors to hear, wanted all of fucking Queens to hear.

You clenched down hard around him, cried out his name and he came, sweat dripping down the tip of his nose and landing on your cheek. It felt like it always did when he was with you – too much and all consuming and like the whole universe or the big fucking bang all at once, all right in your cunt. He emptied his load right into your hot pussy, kept your hips tilted up so none of it would ooze out.

“Don’t fucking move, not yet.” He panted as you shimmied your hips, no doubt sore and raw and sticky all over.

“Pale.” You whined, but he kept his grip.

“Just let me – ” He didn’t even fucking know what he was doing, he just wanted to savor the moment. “Gotta keep all this come safe, you gotta keep it safe for me.” Your cunt made him delirious, it really fucking did.

You smiled, blissed the fuck out underneath him. He figured it was worth it, the edges of his mind fuzzy from you, drunk off the way you smelled, tasted.

He leaned down enough to lick at your neck, toyed with your chain with his tongue. He bit down hard on your jaw, knew he’d leave a bruise there.

“Good?” You asked, eyes already slipping closed, exhausted. He really had done a number on you, but he could feel in his bones how tired he was too.

“Every time baby.” He sighed, wincing as he pulled out finally.

You pressed yourself to him, he wrapped his arms tight around you in a vice-like grip, and fell dead asleep, wondering how the hell he had gone so long without you.


	10. Surprise

When you woke up, it was to the bright warmth of sunlight streaming in through the windows, to the feeling of being absolutely enveloped in Pale’s arms, cradled against his chest.

You blinked against the light, confused; you normally didn’t sleep so late and neither did Pale. But the clock read half-past ten in the morning, and you placed your head back down on Pale’s chest, content to just stay there a while.

That was, of course, until your body woke up the rest of the way and you needed to figure out how to peel yourself out of Pale’s hold. You smiled to yourself as you tried to move, but acting like a trap, his arms only tightened around you.

“Pale, honey, we gotta get up.” You whispered, straining your neck to pepper soft kisses on his cheek.

His brows pinched in sleep-induced annoyance and just like that time so long ago, he rolled over, crushing his body weight on top of you and kissing your neck with deep thoughtful hums.

“I like that.” His voice somehow seemed deeper like this, thick with sleep.

“Like what?” You smiled as he sucked marks down your throat onto your chest, kissing your sternum and burying his face there.

“When you call me honey.” He said, muffled against your skin, “Nobody calls me honey.”

“Good, then I’ll keep callin’ you that.” You replied, working on the difficult task of combing the knots out of his hair with your fingers.

You both stayed like that for a little while, his steady weight evenly pressing you into the mattress, your hand in his hair.

The more you woke up, the more you noticed how beautiful it was outside.

It had been so frigid, now that you were getting towards the end of January, but for whatever reason, the sun was out and the sky was blue. You could see from your bed just how blue, with white fluffy clouds to boot.

Wasn’t there a saying that there were only four good days a year in New York? This must be one of them.

“Fuck.” Pale groaned – whined really – breaking the silence.

“What?” You frowned, worrying you had accidentally pulled on his hair or something.

“Now I gotta piss too.” He grumbled, pushing himself off of you and pulling you with him.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, chuckling to yourself as you both went to the bathroom, going through the daily motions of getting fully awake.

 

“You got work today?” Pale asked, with a toothbrush halfway in his mouth as he bent over the sink to brush his teeth.

“Nope. You?” You replied, doing the exact same while plugging the drain for the bathtub and turning on the faucet.

“Yeah, tonight, but I can stay with ya for the day before heading over.” He said, spitting before rinsing.

The steam of the hot water filling the bathtub made the little mirror go foggy, and as Pale poured his mouthwash you watched him draw a small happy face on the corner of the mirror. You smiled too, glad that he was in a good mood.

“I was thinking, it’s so pretty outside, do you think we could go into the city?” You asked, reaching a hand out for him as a silent request for him to get his ass in the tub.

He took it, drawn to you like a magnet, and climbed in.

“Yeah of course, whatever the fuck you want sweetheart. You don’t gotta ask, ever, okay? You want to do something, you tell me, and we go do it – you don’t got to ask permission. I want whatever you want, you want to go eat?” He asked and you nodded as you stepped into the tub and settled in opposite from him.

He waited until you were good before grabbing your ankles and propping them up on the edge of the tub right by his head.

He turned and kissed your ankle before asking, “We could eat lunch at The Boathouse, you ever been there before?”

“Nope, where’s that?” You asked, wiggling your toes, making him smile just the absolute smallest amount. You liked seeing his smile, those dimples.

“Oh you’d fuckin’ love it, it’s perfect. Right on the water, on the lake in Central Park. They got rowboats and shit, fuckers can rent ‘em out, row on the lake, feed the fuckin’ ducks. I dunno, it’s pretty. Was thinkin’ of taking you there anyway, but it’s been too fuckin’ cold lately, so I think you’re right on the damn money with bringing this up.” He lit up a cigarette and waved it around as he gestured.

“I’d like to row on the lake.” You decided, and he nodded.

“Then we row on the fuckin’ lake.” It was as easy as that, apparently. You couldn’t help but envision what Pale would look like, feeding the ducks. “They got gondolas too, I’ll get us one of those. They like people to have reservations, but your V.S.O.P don’t need one.”

“I’m real lucky, huh?” You grinned, loving how smug he could be. He knew he was hot shit, he knew it. And he was right.

“Damn right you are.” He winked, pulling another drag. “We can’t stay in here all fuckin’ day though, it’s gonna take fuckin’ forever to get down there.”

“Twenty minutes?” You pouted as you leaned forward, careful not to slosh water all over. You picked up his hand and kissed at the knuckles there.

“You’re real lucky you’re pretty.” He shook his head, but he was smiling.

Twenty minutes came and went, and when you asked for five more, he let you have them.

He didn’t let you have the next five that you asked for though, but that was probably for the best. Your stomach growled just as you were about to whine about it, only proving Pale’s point that lunch at The Boathouse was better than a bath.

He picked out his clothes and you picked out yours to match, thinking it could be something fun since the two of you were going into the city. You didn’t have much reason or opportunity to go to the city, and if this lunch place was nice – which dining with Pale always meant somewhere nice – then you wanted to look the part.

It wasn’t that you were self-conscious, it was just that you wanted to fit in with the high society world Pale occupied, wanted to integrate yourself so you wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Pale had bought you all these nice clothes after all, and you wanted to wear them.

He always dressed so well, you thought. Always in a suit when he was out and about, always with a perfect half-windsor tie. Those lizard skin boots of his were always shined, and his gold chain always clean and polished. You picked out a sweater and skirt set to match the color of his tie, a pretty pale blue for today.

He noticed, because of course he did, and he backed you into a corner to kiss you and sneak a hand under the soft cable knit cashmere sweater for a minute before ushering you out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

“You remember the last time we took the subway?” You asked in a low voice, sitting on Pale’s lap in the subway car as Queens zipped past the windows.

The subway was every bit as messy and graffiti covered and garbage filled as it was last time, only this time there were more people on the car. Ten other passengers, all listening to their walkmans or reading a book. Everyone was spread out, no one wanting to get too close to someone else.

You and Pale were tucked in the very back of the car, out of the way. He had said he wanted you sitting on his lap to protect your skirt from the grime of the subway car, but really you knew it was because he just wanted to get in your panties – and you wanted that _now._

“Course sweetheart, how could I ever forget?” He smirked, already wedging a hand between your thighs.

He pushed his hand under you instead of reaching around to rub at you from the front so no one would see or be able to tell as long as you kept quiet. Your pulse spiked, and you licked your lips, feeling his hand stroke your cunt through your panties.

“You want a repeat performance?” You asked, keeping your voice down, trying your best not to whine as he applied more pressure, his thumb coaxing your pussy to get wet, to coat the cotton panties in your own slick.

Instinctively, you spread your legs a little, looking around carefully. No one was paying you any attention, and you spread them just a tiny bit more.

You felt Pale huff a little laugh on your shoulder.

“Fuck you’re a perfect little slut, ain’t ya?” He swallowed, murmured low in your ear as he stroked you, pulled away just enough to smooth that big fucking hand of his under the waistband of your panties, curve over your ass and start fingering you for real.  

 “Yeah, I didn’t get a good dicking this morning and it’s making me antsy.” You replied quietly, steadying yourself on the handrail pole that happened to be right next to you.

“You love my cock that much, you whore?” He licked his lips and thrust his fingers deep inside you, making you suck in a breath.

“Yes, can I have it, please?” You looked over your shoulder, bat your eyelashes for him, hoped it’d get you what you wanted.

You felt like you were on fire, desperate for that big cock of his to fill you up. You wanted to sit on it, to feel it push into your stomach, into your throat. You wanted him to push himself in deep, wanted the rattle of the subway car to make you bounce on his dick.

With his other hand he pinched at your cheek, kissing you sweetly just once.

“No, I want you to come on my hand instead baby.” He said, letting go of your face. “Think you can do that?”

“Anything you want.” You nodded, already halfway there.

You’d get fucked sooner or later, you knew that. Maybe you’d make a show of how bad you wanted him at the restaurant.

“Your pussy’s so hot, you feel it sucking my fingers in? Hungry for me.” Pale said so low in your ear, his hot breath tickling you as he slowly, ever so slowly fingered you.  

“Pale – ” You couldn’t help but gasp, just the smallest bit, couldn’t help but clench down hard around him as he prodded at your clit, his long fingers slipping out of your cunt and running through your folds, smearing your wetness all over your pussy.

“Gotta be quiet you whore, this car ain’t empty like last time.” He warned, and you nodded.

It was such a waste, you thought, because you could feel just how rock hard Pale was for you, could feel it through those pleated pants of his, the hard line of his dick against your ass. How the hell was he going to get up and walk away with that cock of his? Maybe he’d fuck you at the station, in the bathroom or something.

That thought made you eager.

“Okay.” You said softly, your thighs tensing.

You were so close, he had gone back to thrusting his fingers deep inside you, had found that spot that makes your vision white out around the edges, like you’re gonna faint but from pleasure.

He knew he had found it, and he finger fucked you hard.

“Fuck, Pale, I’m gonna come.” You bit your lip, tried to keep from crying out, from moaning his name.

“That’s it, come for me.” His voice was low, but raspy like he’d been shouting.

He fucked you on his hand and snuck his fingers up to your clit and pinched down on it hard enough to make you gasp a little too loud. Mortified, you looked around, but no one seemed to notice – or if they did, they didn’t care.

And then you didn’t care, because you were coming, and your hips and thighs felt like jelly as you gushed onto his hand, stars sparking behind your eyelids as he fingered you through your orgasm, not stopping until you were whining.

“God you’re so fucking dirty.” Pale said like he was impressed as he carefully pulled his hand away, “Abso-fucking-lutely filthy.”

With his other hand he pulled the handkerchief from his jacket pocket and used it to wipe up all your mess, folding it up once every last drop was cleaned away.

“Kiss me?” You asked, turning to look over your shoulder again, puckering your lips for him.

He wasted no time kissing you, kissing you until your breathing evened out and your heartbeat wasn’t racing.

Your mind was hazy with pleasure, but you were vaguely aware that you were getting close to the stop. You mostly focused on the solid man you were sitting on top of, trying to hold on to that glowing warm feeling that you got when you came.

It eventually faded into the back of your mind, your muscles pliant and relaxed.

You turned around in Pale’s lap, sitting sideways and looping your arms across his shoulders. He looked like the definition of smug, and you just had to kiss that expression off his face.

“You got a sharpie in that suit of yours?” You asked, your gaze wandering to the wall behind him.

“Yeah, why?” He asked, feeling around in one of his inside jacket pockets, pulling out a short black sharpie.

You took it happily and stared at the wall.

It was mostly covered in graffiti spray paint, big bubble letters you couldn’t read. Any large open spaces were filled up with stickers and shit like that, but occasionally you’d see a scrawled piece of writing that was legible.

You decided that if everyone else could fuck up the subway car and draw whatever they’d like, so could you.

You uncapped the sharpie and wrote ( _Your initials) + V.S.O.P._ , and drew a big heart around it. You wanted everyone who came on this subway car to know you were Pale’s girl, even if they didn’t know exactly what that meant.

“That’s why.” You said with a smile, capping the sharpie and handing it back to him.

He shook his head, and you swore you saw a hint of a smile on his lips, but he kissed you before you could press him about it.

 

Much to your surprise, Pale didn’t pull you into a dark corner when you finally arrived at the 72 Street Station, just outside Central Park. Instead he let you hold his hand when you asked for it, let you lean your head on his shoulder when you asked for it.

You couldn’t really remember the last time you had been to Central Park, and the smile on your face never seemed to go away. Pale talked about nothing for the whole walk to the restaurant, and you looped your arm in his and listened intently as the both of you strolled along the path that cut through the park.

“You know this place used to be a fuckin’ hellhole?” He said, smoking his cigarette. “Some assholes raised a shit ton of money to conserve the park and made it look real pretty like this. You should see it in the Spring, pink flowers all over the fuckin’ place. Feels like Japan with all the cherry blossoms. I know it ain’t too nice lookin’ because it’s winter, but even the snow’s got a picturesque quality, if you ask me.”

“When’d that start?” You asked, interested in the conservation.

“Right around the beginning of the decade. You go around to some other parts of the park and you’ll find drug dens with broken fuckin’ heroin needles, and prostitutes, and patchy grasses, and graffiti all over. I didn’t take you that way though because I’m fucking starving and there ain’t no use showing you that shit when you’re just gonna see it on the way home later.” He said with a shrug.

“They’re doing a good job, look how many people are here playing in the snow.” You pointed out whole families and couples and friends and strangers all enjoying their time, throwing snowballs and making snow angels in the snow that was starting to turn to slush from the unexpected heat of the day.

You couldn’t remember the last time you heard so much innocent laughter. You wondered what Pale might sound like, laughing that freely.

 

The two of you kept walking until you finally arrived at the restaurant, a relatively unassuming building from the outside. It looked like it definitely used to be a boathouse, that was for sure.

Pale held the door open for you, and the inside made you gasp.

“This place is gorgeous.” You couldn’t help but say, surprised by how different it was inside than it looked on the outside.

There were nautical looking chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and all the pillars had been wrapped in string lights to give an air of romance. The tables were covered with white cloths and there were beautiful winter bouquet arrangements atop each one. Everything was dark wood and cream linens, and there was gentle classical music playing from a live band in the corner.

It was completely packed, everyone seemingly wanting to fill their stomachs with a nice lunch.

“It don’t hold a candle to you, but it’s got charm.” Pale sniffed, making you blush. “Table for two?”

“Name?” The host asked, not bothering to look up at you.

“Just tell the manager it’s for Pale, he’ll know what to do.” Pale said, and the host immediately changed his tune.  

“Of course! Right this way.” He perked up, gesturing for the two of you to follow him.

You followed the host, and Pale followed you to a secluded little table away from the rest of the hustle and bustle of the restaurant.  

“Someone will be with you shortly.” The host said before bowing just a bit and walking away.

Pale pulled out a chair for you and pushed you in, sitting directly next to you.

“Thank you.” You said, before looking out onto the beautiful sunshine day, the light sparkling off the lake.

You were thankful it wasn’t frozen, thankful that there were people in boats taking advantage of the rare warmth. You tried to picture this place in Spring, like Pale was saying.

“How do you always get the best seats?” You asked, as you shrugged out of your big fur coat you brought along just in case it got cold again. You let the sun heat your face for a moment or two.

He lit up a cigarette and draped an arm across your shoulder, encouraging you to lean against him as you flipped through the menu. You didn’t know why you even bothered looking, Pale was going to order for you anyway.

 “I’m good at what I do, I know every-fuckin’-body and everybody knows me. What can I say, I’m a charmer.” Pale shrugged, and you laughed because he _was,_ an absolute charmer.

 

“You know what I was just thinking?” You asked once the last bites of the delicious lunch were eaten up, once the bill was paid and the gondola was pushed from the dock.

“How’s that?” Pale hummed, pulling you close to him as the cheerful gondolier steered the little boat, as the sun kissed your skin and the birds were chirping happily above you.

“I was thinking more about what you were talking about, vacations. The two of us going on one, I mean.” You said, tucking your head on his shoulder, “Going to some warm tropical place and getting to see you in the bright sunshine like this every day, for a little while.”

It was a good look on him, you thought. It had gotten so warm that Pale had taken his jacket off, was just left in his silk shirt and pleated pants, the chain glinting in the light. His skin looked so warm, healthy in the sun, his hair looked richer and darker, his lips more plush. It was all you could think about, how he might look after a week in the tropics, surrounded by lush greenery and blue waters.

“Sounds pretty fuckin’ nice, huh?” Pale smirked, pleased that he had finally been right.

“Yeah, it really does.” You chuckled, sitting up to look him in the eye. “Maybe we could go somewhere where there’s water, rent a boat and sip champagne. Hawaii or Florida or California, or something.”

“I’d take you anywhere, you know? It doesn’t have to be in the country. We could go to Italy, or the south of France, or Greece. Wherever the fuck you want.” He nodded, tucking a stray bit of hair behind your ear.

“All of those sound like a dream.” You smiled, reveling in the hypothetical.

“Then we’ll go to all of them. Talk to Fish, he’ll give you the time off.” Pale said, and you chuckled.

“Pale, that’d be too much.” You smiled fondly. There was no way you’d let him, he was bad enough spending as much as he did on you.

“Look, it’s my money, ain’t it?” Pale frowned, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but – ”

“I work hard for it, don’t I?” He interrupted, pinching your chin in his big hand, making you look up at him.

His eyes were so brown, you didn’t think you had ever seen just how brown they were.

“Of course you do but – ”

“So then what’s wrong with me spending my fucking money how I’d like?” He asked, not unkindly, as he swooped in for a kiss.

“Just don’t go wasting it all on me.” You tugged on his earlobe affectionately.

“Nothing is a waste if it’s for you, you got that?” He snatched your hand and smacked a kiss to it, “Nothin’.”

“When did you become such a romantic?” You teased, and he scoffed.

“Me? _Romantic?_ ” He lit up another cigarette, making you grin, “Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

You just shook your head and rest it back on his shoulder, his arm tightening around your waist.

The gondolier, bless him, took the opportunity to sing a soft ballad. You couldn’t make out what he was saying, he sung in what had to be Italian, but the sentiment was what mattered. You smiled, thinking that despite Pale’s stubbornness, it was pretty damn romantic.

In some ways, you liked that it was winter. It meant you’d get to experience the whole year with Pale, get to discover all the new things to come with him.

While the two of you sat on that little boat on the lake, you smiled at the barren trees, thinking how wonderful it would be to get to watch them bloom together. They reminded you of the trees near your apartment, maybe one day Pale would kiss you underneath one, sweating from the scorching summer heat.

He talked and talked about everything and nothing, bitched about how he didn’t want to go back to work later in the evening.

He complained about the people there, the incompetency of it all, and it made your heart sad.  

“We gotta head back soon, don’t we?” You asked, not wanting this magical moment to end. The sun was starting to get low in the sky, and you knew that if you stayed out any later, he wouldn’t make it to work on time.

You thought about cleaning the apartment while he was gone, maybe cooking dinner for him despite all his complaints about your ability – or lackthereof – to season properly.

Pale sighed, ran a hand through his hair and looked at his watch.

“Yeah, I got a meeting before work starts.” He sucked his teeth, clearly not pleased with it either.

The gondolier took the hint and rowed you back to the dock, and Pale tipped him generously before helping you climb out of the boat.

“Should we go back to the subway now, get you back with enough time so you’re not rushing?” You asked, reaching your hand out for him, entwining your fingers with his.

His hands were calloused and warm, and you smiled. You liked that he was giving you this, these small moments of sweetness after holding them back for so long.

“Probably, it’s a _pretty_ big fuckin’ meeting.” He said, making you raise an eyebrow. His tone practically demanded to be questioned.

“Well don’t leave me in suspense!” You replied, but he just shook his head and the two of you began walking back through the park to the 72 Street subway entrance.

“It’s a surprise.” Was all Pale said back, and you groaned.

“I’ll show you my tits?” You waggled your brows, but he shook his head.

“I get to see them anyway.” He stopped walking in the middle of the path and pulled you to him, leaned down to kiss you right there, right in the middle of the whole park.

“No I know, but I’ll show you them now?” You tried, and he laughed, a real genuine laugh that always made you feel like you hit the damn jackpot.

“No sweetheart, I ain’t budging.” He patted your ass lightly, before he kept walking.

“You’re awful.” You complained, and he chuckled.

“I know.” He smoked a cigarette and smiled around it, his hand in yours as you whined.

“The absolute worst. And you say _I’m_ the menace?” You pouted, and he rounded on you real fast, pushed you up against a tree, nudged his knee between your legs.

“That’s because you are, you terror.” He said around his cigarette, “A fucking gorgeous one, but a terror.”

You plucked the cigarette out from his lips, and he sucked a dark mark on your neck, chuckled at the way you grounded down onto that thigh of his. His hands slid under your sweater, pinched at your nipples as he sucked on your neck, making you moan.

“Will you fuck me now?” You asked, breathy.

You’d been wanting it since the subway, and Pale’s eyes darkened as he licked his lips.

“Fuck, we gotta make it quick.” He said, grabbing your arm and bringing you off the path of the park and into the trees just a little, just to give some coverage.

He bent you over a big rock, it was hot from being baked in the sunlight all day, but you just sighed happily as he pushed your skirt up over your hips.

“God look at you, look at this pussy.” He said, crowding behind you, yanking down your panties.

Your cunt was practically twitching, drooling, desperate for him, and you tried pressing your thighs together to get some friction. He smacked your ass just enough to get it to jiggle, and you arched your back, tried making yourself more enticing for him.

“It’s yours.” You said right away, because it was, and you wanted him to use you, wanted him to fill you up like you’d been hungry for all day.

“That’s fucking right it is, it’s begging for my cock ain’t it? Beg.” He said, voice gruff as he roughly untucked his shirt, fought with his belt and nearly broke the zipper as he rushed to get his cock out.

“Pale please, please I’ve wanted this all day, take me, I’m yours all of it’s yours.” You said, so easy, you were so easy for him.

“You’re pretty when you’re like this, fuck.” He said, wasting no time in pushing into you. His fingers were great, they were fucking fantastic, but you couldn’t help but moan happily as you felt the head of his cock thrust deep inside you. “I’m gonna come in you so fucking much it’s gonna slide down your thighs and then maybe you’ll learn not to be a fuckin’ brat, getting me all wound up when I can’t even take my damn time with you.”

“Go to work and then come back and fuck me again.” You gasped as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, as he snapped his hips against you, his balls slapping your ass.

Your nipples were so hard, almost painful, you had to reach under you and play with them yourself as Pale fucked you hard.

“You gonna be waiting for me?” He demanded, “This cunt gonna be ready for me to just slide the fuck in?”

“It always is.” You nodded, before gasping as he let go of your hair and used both his hands to grab your hips, pull you flush against him.

“I’m going to walk through that front door and if you’re not naked I won’t let you come for a fucking week.” Pale said through gritted teeth, and you clenched down hard around him, the threat spurring you on even though you knew he didn’t mean it.

“I – I’ll be naked – oh!” You were having trouble talking, especially when he pounded just the right spot, brushed up against it as his cock hit your cervix, nudged it and made you whine until you were coming, toes curling in your heels.

He came in you without any warning, fucked you through it until his hips stilled against you. You swore you could feel just how hot his come was, could feel it pulsing through you. He held you tight against him, didn’t want one single fucking drop to go to waste.

“I’m gonna be late.” He panted, but you just grinned, blissed out and well fucked.

Pale pulled out, sticky and slippery, a mix of your and his come dripping down your thighs, just like he said.

 

* * *

 

 

He dropped you off at the apartment with a quick kiss before he dashed out the door, leaving you to your own devices for the rest of the afternoon and evening.

You took in the state of your place – it could do with a good cleaning. It wasn’t messy or disorganized or anything, but you felt that some vacuuming never hurt.

On your way to the bedroom you opened the windows and aired out the apartment. You made a quick stop at the closet, hung up your coat and stepped out of your shoes before grabbing the vacuum that was shoved in the corner.

You were relieved to see the vacuum bag was empty, and began the process of making your way through the whole apartment. There was something so incredibly satisfying about hearing it suck up all the crap that your heels and his boots brought in, collecting all the dust bunnies and bits of gravel and asphalt from the outside world.

Once you finished vacuuming, you grabbed an old cut-up t-shirt and some glass cleaner, wiped down the sink and mirror in the bathroom, cleaned the tub. You figured why the hell not go ahead and clean the kitchen too.

By the time all the dishes were done and put away, the counters cleaned and the stove scrubbed, you were exhausted and starving.

Shit, you thought to yourself, you couldn’t remember if you needed to go into work tomorrow or not. Your stomach growled, and you figured the best way to find out would be to just show up for a bit of dinner, and ask Fish when you saw him.

Splashing some water from the kitchen sink onto your face, you put yourself back together and headed out the door, walking down to the diner.

The warmth from the day was starting to disappear, and you were glad to have brought the coat with you again, bundling it around yourself as the sun began to set and the nighttime chill returned.

The diner wasn’t too busy, which was to be expected for the time of day. The dinner rush didn’t really start for another hour or so.

“(Y/N)! What are you doing here?” You heard your boss greet you from the counter.

“I’m starving over here Fish!” You grinned, going to hug your friend.

“You mean you’re not here to help out?” He teased, and you laughed.

“Not tonight, but I’m coming in tomorrow, right?” You asked as you took a seat at the milkshake bar.

“Yeah, I’ve got you scheduled for the morning shift. You alright? It’s not like you to forget.” He frowned, and you smiled fondly, he was always such a worrier when it came to you.

“I’m fine Fish I promise, just wanted to make sure is all.” You waved away his concern, but he just went into the back and brought you out a big platter of your favorite dinner special.

No matter how many fancy restaurants Pale took you to, you had to admit that regular old diner food was some of your favorite shit on the planet. Not that Fish’s food wasn’t delicious, because it absolutely was, but there was something so comforting about a simple traditional, no fuss dinner.

“Where’s that man of yours?” Fish asked with a bit of a twinkle in his eye as he slid you over a milkshake.

“Pale’s at work right now, I probably won’t see him for another day or two.” You smiled, gratefully accepting the shake and washing down your bite with it.

“Why’s that?” He frowned, and you thought it was sweet that he cared so much.

“Usually I’m going into work when he gets off.” You shrugged, taking another bite and savoring it.

“Is that why he sometimes stumbles on in here first fuckin’ thing in the morning?” He grumbled, and you laughed.

“Yeah,” You nodded, “He sometimes comes straight here to see me.”

“That’s the sweetest damn thing I’ve ever heard.” Fish clicked his tongue as he started wiping down the milkshake bar.

“Don’t go telling him that, he’s got a reputation, you know.” You winked, and his smile grew more fond.

“If you want, I can switch your hours so you two can spend more time together.” You offered, surprising you.

“No that’s okay Fish. I like my hours, we see each other plenty.” You reassured him.

His counter wiping slowed, and he looked at you with sort of an unreadable expression on his eyes. He almost looked nervous, but you couldn’t really place why.

“But...would you be opposed to different hours? If something were to happen where there might be a need for that sorta thing?” He asked, officially worrying you now.

“You’re not making sense Fish, is everything okay?” You asked.

What did that mean, was he going to cut your hours? Were you not doing your job well? Was the diner not doing well? Your mind started to trip into overdrive, and Fish rushed to shake his hands, try and wave away your concern.

“Yeah! No no no, yeah – everything’s fine. Was just wondering is all.” He said, and you calmed down. “Food good?” He asked, trying to change the subject.

“As always Fish.” You replied truthfully, but you were unconvinced everything was okay.

“Don’t forget your soup before you leave.” He said with a smile, just as the front door opened and a family of eight shuffled in from the cold.

You nodded, happily finishing your dinner and your shake, watching as the other waitresses seated the family and took their order. They weren’t half as good as you, you thought with a bit of pride as you went around the counter and filled up a to-go Styrofoam bowl with your favorite soup, heading out to go back to your apartment for the night.

 

The next day, everything was completely normal at work, much to your relief.

Fish was his usual cranky self, the diner was busy for breakfast and lunch, and right when you were getting ready to leave, a whole new group of people showed up for the after-lunch rush.

“You need me to stay?” You asked Fish, but he shook his head.

“Nope, I got Stephanie coming in to take over for you, she’ll be fine.” He replied from the kitchen.

“Alright, I just gotta make a call and I’ll head out.” You said, hurrying over to the phone and dialing it.

It only rang for a second or two before connecting.

“Pale speakin’?” Came through the receiver.

“It’s me,” You grinned, “I’m leaving work now, can I come over?”

“Yes! Yeah, give me like five minutes?” He sounded caught off-guard, and it made you laugh.

“Okay, love you, I’ll see you soon.” You said, hanging up and quickly untying your apron and taking off your little hat, sticking them both in your cubby.

You walked to his apartment with a spring in your step, not stopping until you were in front of his door, ringing his doorbell.

Pale opened the door and you were on him immediately, kissing him and making him frown, confused.

“What are you doing?” He asked, closing the door behind you, hands on you, tugging you out of your clothes.

“What, you can barge into my apartment unannounced and fuck me, but I can’t ask for the same?” You grinned, and Pale groaned.

“You’re gonna kill me,” He announced, “Look at this, blood rushed to my dick so fast I’m dizzy. You make me dizzy.”

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, please fuck me?” You asked, pressed yourself against him.

“Anything you want baby, any-fuckin’-thing you want.” He said quickly, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

He dumped you on his bed, and you bounced on the mattress with a laugh when he did. His pupils were blown wide open, and he was already sweating. You looked over on the night-stand and saw his little mirror, shook your head fondly at him.

He was already licking up your neck, undoing the buttons on his trousers.

“You been thinkin’ about this, you said? My big cock?” He asked, licking his lips, already stepping out of his clothes to get as naked as you were.

“Yeah, please give it to me?” You dug your fingers into his back and pulled him down to you.

“Well when you ask so pretty like that…” He grinned, yanking your leg over his shoulder and pushing into you.

“Pale!” You gasped, grabbing at him, at the sheets, at anything and everything as he thrust straight into you.

Sweat dripped off his nose, landed on your tits as his cock forced you up the bed. You loved it when he was rough, and he must have known because suddenly his hand was coming down onto your throat, pinning you in place so as he fucked you, you wouldn’t go anywhere.

The force of his hips also had another side affect, other than shoving you up the bed. Nearly every time he fucked you, that chain of his smacked you in the face, heavy gold swinging off his neck. It never hurt, you barely noticed it whenever it happened, usually so overwhelmed by Pale to even register it, but this time it was driving you crazy.

You kissed his neck, hot open mouthed kisses, before biting down on his chain solely to keep it from giving you a black eye.

“Come on baby, take it.” He ground out, eyes pinching shut as he smacked his hips against yours. “You’re doin’ so good.”

The praise made you melt, and your hands grasped at his muscular forearm that was holding you down. He let go of your neck just for a moment so you could get some air, spit in your mouth when you did so you’d swallow him down too.

“Your pussy’s so good, was just about to come over when you called.” He said, panted, fucking and fucking you, the bed shaking and creaking under the both of you from his movements.

“Pale – !” You moaned, pushed your tits up as an invitation.

He immediately latched onto one of your nipples, grunted out loud as one particularly sharp thrust moved your hips in a way that got him impossibly deeper. You liked that he liked fucking you so much, even when he was high as a kite, _especially_ then.

He laved his tongue all over your breasts, taking care to nip and suck as many marks as he could. Tears were clinging to your eyelashes from the feeling of it all, his mouth on you, his hands, his cock, everything. You pulled his hand off your throat and brought it up to your mouth instead, sucked on his fingers and moaned around them. 

“Not gonna last long.” He grunted, and you nodded, didn’t care if he fucked you for ten minutes or ten hours, days, years – as long as he fucked you, you didn’t care.

“Please!” You cried, sucking on his fingers and swallowing around them as you clenched down.

“Holy shit – fuck – !” He rammed into you once, twice, three more times before stilling, keeping his hips flush against yours. “Don’t fucking move, just – not yet.”

He was out of breath, coming and coming and coming down from his high, from one haze into the next.

“I love you.” You hummed as he collapsed down onto your chest, his cheek rubbing against your sternum.

“Keep sayin’ it.” He sighed, closing his eyes against the hand in his hair that you combed through, gently and so full of love.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” You murmured, feeling him pull out after a minute or two.

He settled himself between your legs, took his fingers and fucked his come back into you, pushed whatever had spilled out right back into your cunt.

“Why do you do that?” You asked with a small smile, shimmying up the bed to rest your head on Pale’s soft pillows.

“Because you’re mine.” He replied simply, as if that was all the answer you needed.

And it was, because once he regained his breath, he shuffled out of bed and went into the bathroom, returned with a warm washcloth and cleaned you up.

He was always so careful with this part, made sure to be gentle and sweet to make up for how rough and tumble he was in bed. He wiped down your thighs, your stomach, your tits. Made sure no sweat or spit would dry and make you itchy.

He kissed you sweetly before doing the same to his own naked body, tossing the washcloth in the vicinity of the bathroom door before snuggling next to you under the covers. He hated blankets, got too hot, so you were merciful and shucked the big comforter down to the end of the bed, now only covered by the satin sheet.

“Quit biting on my fuckin’ chain.” He huffed at you as he squished your cheeks in-between his thumb and forefinger, scrunched his nose up and bared his teeth, all bark and no bite.

Well, maybe not _no_ bite. You liked some bite, if your chest and thighs were anything to go by.

“I will once it stops smacking my face when you fuck me.” You smiled despite his hold, rolled your eyes and looped a finger underneath the gold that hangs around his neck, the very same one that rests on your sternum as the two of tangle up in his big bed, a mess of sweat covered limbs.

“Fair.” He sucked his teeth, regarded you carefully. “I could always fuck you from behind.”

It was a joke, you could tell by the way he had the smallest of twinkles in his eye, the way his frown twitched like he was gonna smile. You felt that was a great victory: Pale, makin’ jokes.

“You could, but then you don’t get to see my face when I come.” You winked, knowing how much he liked to watch you, right from the very beginning.

“Yeah.” He nodded, probably thinking the same thing.

He gave your face a little shake before pressing his lips against yours for a moment and letting you go, manhandling you to lay on his chest in that way he likes, with you propping your chin up with your hands so you could still make eye-contact.

“You got a real good face too.” He sniffed, reaching over on the nightstand for a cigarette.

“Oh yeah?” You grinned, striking a match and lighting it for him, watching as the afternoon sunbeams caught the smoke he breathed out after inhaling a big puff of the shit.

“Yeah, I like lookin’ at it.” He said with a smirk, sighing happily and putting that big hand of his right back onto your cheek, cupping it affectionately. He liked touching you too, hands and eyes, always on you.

“I like lookin’ at you too.” You said, kissing the spot on his chest closest to where your lips were, not wanting to move too far too fast.

Sometimes Pale felt like a skiddish stray – any sudden movement, anything unplanned or unexpected, and he’d run away. He’d gotten much better than when you first met, you had to admit, but still you sometimes saw the urge in his eye to bolt.

You wished you could tell him that you’d never do that to him, what they did. You’d never hurt him the way they did.

“You’re so handsome.” You say instead, not wanting to overwhelm him.

He took a deep drag of the cigarette, and through the haze of the afternoon sun you swore you saw a hint of blush on his cheeks.

“Even my broken nose and big ears?” He asked, voice low.

“ _Especially_ your broken nose and big ears.” You replied, turning your face in his hand to kiss the palm there. You smiled when you felt his thumb rub soft circles on your cheek.

“Hey you ain’t supposed to agree.” He huffed, but you just scooched up his chest to press your lips all over the blush that still lingered, right on top of those dimples that made you melt.

Pale stubbed out his cigarette and you kissed his cheek, and the sunshine streamed in through his big expensive windows into his luxurious room, and everything was peaceful and quiet.

“I was wondering if you’d play something for me.” You whispered, making him hum in confusion.

“Play something?” He asked, half asleep.

“Yeah, like on the piano. Or something.” You traced patterns on his relaxed face with the tip of your index finger, trailing it over his lips. “You don’t have to.”

“Not yet.” He shook his head, lightly biting your finger.

“But soon?” You pressed, and he hummed again.

“Hopefully.” He said, then cracked an eye to look at you, “Why are you smilin’ like that?”

“No reason.” You lied.

You wanted to hear it, your song. You hadn’t forgotten, but you knew he had.  

“Did you have anything in mind?” He asked, and it was all you could do to not give yourself away then and there.

“Yeah, but I don’t know what it’s called.” You skirted around the subject, and he opened his other eye with a frown.

“How does it go?” He asked, and you grinned, because of course the classical aficionado would be able to tell you the name just by a few notes.

“I don’t know.” You replied honestly, and he groaned.

“That’s the fuckin’ worst. If you want, take a look at my tapes collection, maybe somethin’ll be there, jog your memory.” A lazy hand waved around before settling down on your bare back, brushing through your hair.

“If you won’t play me something yet, will you dance with me to one of your tapes?” You asked, hopeful.

He looked at you, really looked, and nodded.

“Sure thing sweetheart.” He said, holding you close just for a few moments more.

 

“I like to dance like this. I like to dance in the clubs too, the discos are pretty fun, but I like this. It’s cozy.” You said, after the two of you finally dragged yourselves out of bed and pulled on the bare minimum of clothing.

You had picked a tape at random, stuck it into Pale’s home entertainment system, and was pleasantly surprised when Debussy’s Arabesques began to play throughout the apartment.

Pale had you wrapped up in his arms, his socked feet stepping around yours as you leaned your head on his chest, eyes closed and absorbing the sunshine of the late afternoon and the music.

“Yeah, warm and fuckin’ fuzzy or something. It ain’t something I’m used to, you know?” He said, like he was nervous. You didn’t want him to be nervous around you.

“Me neither, but I feel it when I’m with you, just like how I feel safe around you.” You sighed, cozy indeed.

“You do?” He asked, surprised. You wondered if he’d ever stop being so surprised.

“You think I’d spend all my spare time with a man who scares the shit out of me? I’ve never felt safer, even when you were screaming in Marty’s face.” You chuckled, leaned up to kiss him, kiss the frown off his lips, kiss him until he was chuckling.

“How the hell is that cocksucker by the way?” Pale asked, making you chuckle too.

“He’s alright. Keeps a respectful distance, gives me extra mayo on my sandwiches.” You shrugged, making him suck his teeth.  

“Good, I’d hate to break his fuckin’ nose in a second time.” He said as he gently twirled you, making you laugh openly.

“Can I spend the night here?” You asked, not entirely sure he didn’t have work, but wanting to be close just in case.

“You want to sleep here?” Pale asked, eyebrows raised.

“If that’s okay.” You replied quickly, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

“Of course it’s okay.” He said back, just as fast, making you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Kiss me?” You asked, and he did, kissed you until the song ended and the tape rewound, kissed you until his stomach rumbled, kissed you until the sky turned orange.

“Come sit,” Pale said, leading you into his big kitchen. “I’ll make dinner.”

“Do you have to go to work tonight?” You asked, following him and hopping up onto the counter, just like you would have if the two of you were across the street in your apartment.

He began opening up the cabinets and the fridge, started setting the oven and got out the cutting board.

“Yeah, but I can leave in a couple hours. Plenty enough time to eat with my girl, don’t you think?” He said with a smile, pushing the hair out of his face.

Your chest warmed at him calling you his girl, just like it always did when he let a little bit of affection openly slip out.

“What are we having?” You watched him as he started chopping vegetables.

“I got shit for ratatouille, that sound good?” He asked, making your face light up.

“That sounds delicious! Can I help?” You asked, wanting to be of some assistance if you could.

“Just sit there and look pretty dollface.” He chuckled, and you rolled your eyes, feeling dumb for not expecting that answer.

“What do you normally eat when I’m not around?” You wondered aloud, watching him quickly and efficiently chop zucchini and eggplant and peppers and throw them into a skillet that was sautéing garlic and onions.

“I don’t know, something quick and easy.” He shrugged, stirring the vegetables around, “You know, even when I lived with her, I was always the one who cooked? Had to do all the fancy shit, impress her and her friends and whatever else. It was my job, you know? To take care of her, not that no one ever fuckin’ thought to return the favor.” He huffed, not so much angry as annoyed.

“I’ll take care of you.” You said without thinking, making him lick his lips.

“Yeah you would, wouldn’t you?” He quirked a smirk, scooping some of the vegetables out onto a wooden spoon and holding it to your lips, “Taste this.”

“I’m serious.” You said, before blowing the steam away and eating the offered bite. It was delicious, stupidly delicious – what the hell did he do to food to make it so good?

“So am I, does this have enough salt?” Pale said, and you acquiesced, not wanting to press the issue.

“No, add some more.” You said, just to have something to say.

“What? No it’s got enough.” He tasted it with a frown and you laughed, in love with how stubborn he could be.

 

When dinner was ready you ate at the big dining table. Despite its size, you and Pale sat right next to each other, enjoying one another’s company before he had to leave. He even lit a candle or two, and protested immediately when you even started to suggest that this was a romantic dinner date.

He had to go though, so he left his dishes in the sink and changed into a fresh suit, kissed you lovingly before he was out the door.

Without him there, you got bored and went to his room, raided his closet for soft sleep clothes and tried to sleep in his bed.

You found that you couldn’t, only because the excitement of it all kept you awake. Being there, in Pale’s apartment, meant you would wake up to him next to you, and that was a feeling you had been craving more and more recently.

Eventually, sleep overcame you, and you dreamed about dancing in the sunlight and rowboats on central park lake and gold chains in your face.

 

* * *

 

 

“I changed my mind.” Pale said, some days later.

You’d been spending more and more time there, at his apartment.

Sometimes you just sat on the couch with him while he made calls, other times he fucked you so hard in the kitchen that now you kept a pillow tucked away so the counter-tops wouldn’t bruise your skin.

You were currently sitting on his lap in the living room, leisurely combing your hand through his hair as he went through his accounting books for work.

You were naked just the way he liked you, skin warm and flushed from intermittent making out. It was a rare day where neither of you had work, and he had spent the whole morning eating you out. Something told you he wasn’t quite finished with you yet, but you wanted to know what was going on in that mind of his.  

“Changed it to what?” You asked against his lips.

“I’ll play you something.” He said, immediately filled with excitement.

“Really?” You beamed, you’d been wanting to hear him play for what felt like years, and he chuckled.

“Yeah, if you still want.” He said, closing the ledger, apparently done for now.

“I do!” You said quickly, the biggest grin on your face.

“Alright, come on.” Pale reluctantly smiled, patted your ass as you got off his lap, walked past you to the piano room.

Pale sat down on the bench and patted the open spot next to him, and you joined him, careful not to touch anything and screw anything up.

He wasted little time, simply pushing back the keylid and letting his fingers hover over the ivory.

And then, just like magic, music played, sprung forth from his fingertips.

You were right, had been right all along, his hands _were_ so big, spread so wide that they flew over the keys with ease.

It was the piece, the one he played on your back eons ago, the one he had tapped out onto your skin in a drugged up drunken stupor, the one he had said was yours.

You listened, enraptured by the sound of it, by how good it was. Of course it was good, it had to be, this was Pale you were listening to – but it blew you away how actually stunning the piece was.

It was like a window into his soul, a glimpse inside his mind. Was this how he felt? Wasn’t that what he had said, ages and ages ago?

 

_“Is it a happy song?” You asked when he finished, when his hands finally stilled and your back tickled with the phantom feeling of all the little taps and pokes._

_“I don’t know.” He replied right away, making you frown just a little, making your stomach do those nervous flips._

_This wasn’t the part of your story where he told you he hated you…was it?_

_“What do you mean?” You had to know, but he shrugged, only making your stomach knot up tighter._

_“Well, it don’t got any real meaning to it or anything. There’s no story. It’s just feeling, you know? How you make me feel.” He said._

_“How do I make you feel?”_

_“Like I’m dyin’.”_

 

You hadn’t understood then, but you got it now. You could feel it, the longing, the love. Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? That was love. The fear and the anxiety and all the bliss in the world.

You could hear it in his music, you understood it.

And just like that, the song was over, the last note ringing out in the piano room.

“That was gorgeous.” You whispered, not daring to speak too loudly and ruin everything, ruin the beauty of that reverberance. “Does it have a name?”

“No, not yet.” Pale replied, just as softly, “Did ya like it?”

“Yeah, I did.” You smiled at him, and he kissed you.

 

* * *

 

 

“I really would, you know.” You said, standing next to him in the kitchen later, watching as he prepared tea for the both of you.

He had a whole tea cabinet, and every time he let you spend the night, you asked for a new one to try. He always obliged you, was happy to do it.

You wondered if he had made tea for anyone else in a long time.

“How’s that?” Pale asked, distracted by the pour as he fills two small cups. You couldn’t help but smile at how small they were in his hands as he passed one to you.

“Take care of you.” You replied, bringing up the conversation you’d had. “I would, if you’d let me.”

You sip the tea, gently blow the steam away. This one tasted like oranges and cloves, and it tingled your nose just a little when you tipped the cup to your lips.

Pale put the teapot down, took a sip of his own for a moment before casting his eyes to his socked feet.

“It’s a shit job.” He said, matter-of-factly, “Takin’ care of someone fucked up like me.”

“It’s worth it, if it’s you. If it’s takin’ care of you.” You walked across the kitchen and stood next to him, pressed your side right up against his, his arm slipping over your shoulders and tucking you close. You warmed your hands on the teacup. 

“What if I fuck you up too?” He asked. You wondered what hurt more, the fact that he thought he might, or the fact that he needed the reassurance that he wouldn’t. 

“You won’t.” You wasted no time answering, making him chuckle just a bit with the passion of your response.

“You said that too fuckin’ quickly.” He smiled into his teacup, shaking his head.

“I don’t have to think when I’m with you. I can just talk, you know?” You defended yourself, looking up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, tucking you ever closer. “Yeah I know.”

You sipped your tea, and he sipped his, and it was quiet and calm for a long while, before Pale cleared his throat.

“You remember that fuckin’ meeting I had to go to?” He asked, and you frowned, trying to recall.

“The day we went to Central Park?” You guessed, and he nodded, making you smile that you got it right. “Yes, what about it?”

You had assumed it was just work related, but something in the way he sipped his tea made you think otherwise.

“It was with The Philharmonic.” He said, and you frowned.

“The New York Philharmonic?” You asked, stupidly.

“The very fuckin’ same.” He nodded, and you nodded back, confused. “There’s a performance tomorrow, something I wrote. I was wondering if you’d maybe come with me, be my date to the opening show.”

It took a couple seconds to register what he was saying, but the minute you did, you put your tea cup down on the counter with a little too much force, excitement coursing through you.

“Pale!” You were overjoyed, “Of course I would! Oh my god, congratulations that’s incredible!”

“Woah, hold your fuckin’ horses sweetheart, you’re gonna burn the shit out of us.” He laughed, putting down his tea cup too before scooping you up in his arms.

“This was the surprise?” You asked, grinning, face hurting from how much you were smiling.

“Yup, pretty fuckin’ good one too, huh?” He smiled back, his crooked teeth and dimples on display.

You kissed him.

“Yes! Oh my god, Pale!” You laughed, “I’m so excited, how long has this been going on?”

“They started rehearsing back in December when I finished the last fuckin’ song. Was stuck on that one for a good while.” He said, cupping your cheeks in his hands, big warm calloused things.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.” You were so proud, so completely proud of him.

“But you’ll come, right?” He asked, and you nodded, laughed and kissed him.

“Of course I’ll come.” You said.

Pale kissed you.

 

* * *

 

 

The concerto was, in a word, a success.

You still couldn’t wrap your mind around the beauty that Pale’s music had managed to convey, even as you were standing out on the balcony of the Lincoln Center, waiting for him to make his way through the crowd of fans and peers and audience members to come find you.

It had been magical, completely and utterly magical.

You hadn’t realized how well known he was in the business, not until all the paparazzi rushed him, asked him what it was like to be performing for the first time in a decade. You hadn’t realized how important this was, that he make a good come-back, how he chose your song to come back with.

Because of course it was your song, of course it was. It was what ended the third movement, what brought the entire audience to their feet, what brought the champagne bottles out for the after-party, what brought the tears to your eyes.

“All of it’s for you, you know.” He said, stepping out onto the balcony, finally having found you.

You turned to greet him, smiling wetly as he walked to your side.

He stared out into the skyline as he flicked his cigarette ash, watched as it fluttered off the balcony, caught in the slight breeze.

Your throat tightened, more tears threatening to collect in the corner of your eyes. Of course it was, you thought. Of course he’d go and do something so grand and pass it off as something so nonchalant. You hoped he never changed, that that shyness never went away.

Even after all this time he was still so shy.

“I talked to Fishel, me and him are gonna go into business together, open up a second diner in the city. I’m gonna manage it.” He said, apropos of nothing in that way of his that he sometimes did.  

“Pale.” You whispered, placing your hand on the railing right next to his, an offering. So _that’s_ what Fish had been on about that day at the diner.

He took it, and you leaned your head on his shoulder, looked out into the night sky with him. You didn’t think you’d ever see this many stars again, the one night where the smog or the clouds didn’t totally cover it all up. It was a perfect night for this sort of thing, like the sky opened up just for the two of you.

The tip of Pale’s cigarette glowed orange as he took in another drag.

“I figured, you know he’s got a real fuckin’ good thing goin’, but there’s just not that many people here to appreciate it. The city’s got millions of people every day, and we figured since I got the connections, I could make it something real special. A diner, but special, you know?” You didn’t think you had ever seen him this nervous – and he had just been given a standing ovation.  

“You know what this means?” You asked, your throat caught tight.

“Hm?”

“You’ll get to be your own boss, make your own hours. You could write more concertos and tour the world with them and not have to worry about conflicting schedules.” You smiled, happy for him, happy that there were already so many people who wanted him to tour, who wanted to hear his music.

“Only if you come with me.” He said, turning to face you.

“Really?” You asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah. What do you say?” He fidgeted with the gold chain around your neck.

“Of course I’ll go with you. I’ll go anywhere with you.” You said, leaning up to kiss him, pressing your lips to his, his hands wrapping around your waist.

You kissed and kissed, the music of Pale’s concerto playing in your head, your song bouncing around and around in your brain.

“I’m so proud of you,” You rested your forehead against his, “For all of it.”

“It’s yours, you have to know that. A hundred fuckin’ years from now, someone’s gonna listen to this. Maybe it’ll be just one person, maybe it’ll be a million people. Maybe it’ll just be my grandkids or their grandkids, who found a dusty cassette tape recording of it in the back of a box somewhere, but someone…someone out there is gonna listen to this and they’ll know. They’ll feel it.” He nodded to himself, so certain.

“Feel what?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“If I did it right, they’ll feel what I feel every time I look at you. They’ll feel how you make me feel. They’ll take one fuckin’ listen and they’ll know that someone somewhere a hundred years ago was so completely and totally in love with someone else, that they had to pour their entire goddamned heart into a concerto to get it out.”

“If I fuckin’ did it right, maybe they’ll close their eyes and see a beautiful fucking woman who’s got the whole weight of the world on her shoulders. Maybe they’ll see a hardworking man who’s got his fair share of baggage. Maybe they’ll watch them get to know each other through late night baths or cups of coffee in a diner.”

“If I’m lucky, maybe they’ll get to see this gorgeous woman smile at the man, open up her arms to him. They’ll see how fuckin’ breathtaking she is when she smiles, when she laughs. Maybe they’ll get to feel that fuckin’ swoop in their stomach that makes them worried they’re sick, dying from it, the fear and the panic that one day she’ll find out she’s too good for him, that he’s a mess.”

“That’s only one half of it.” You interrupted him, tears threatening to spill.

“How’s that?” He frowned, and you kissed him, kissed him until you could feel his hands stop trembling against your back.

“They’ll feel her fall in love with him from the very first morning where she makes him breakfast, how she wants to be near him all the time, thinks about him all the time.” You said, taking his hand. “They’ll hear how her heart beats too fast whenever he’s around, because she’s just so excited that he chose her of all people. He could have anyone he wanted, and he chose her. Ain’t that somethin’?”

“They’ll watch the man fall in love, but they’ll watch the woman fall just as hard, just as fast, even faster. They’ll watch her hold him close when he’s vulnerable, watch him keep her safe and happy and offer her companionship after going so long without it.”

Pale shook his head, shy, so shy.

“She could have so easily kicked him out like all the others, but she didn’t. She calls him handsome and thinks he’s funny and wants to know about him and wants to listen to him and picks up the pieces of his broken fucking heart after seeing just how damaged it is. Now _that’s_ somethin’.” He replied, looking very much like on the verge of tears himself.

“Sounds like we’re one of a kind, you and me.” You grinned, and Pale laughed, because of all the things in the world, one of a kind was the only thing to call it.

“Got a real blue moon kinda love, don’t we?” He agreed, cupping your cheek, looking into your eyes – really _looking._

“Yeah, we do.” You nodded, placing a hand over his, looking right back.  

 

And you did.

 

You did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me, it means the world to me just how much love this fic has gotten, I can't even begin to describe it. 
> 
> If you'd like to yell at me about Pale or this fic or anything in general, please feel free to visit my blog @babbushka over on tumblr. 
> 
> This may be the end of Blue Moon, but it's not the end of Pale, i can promise you that! <3333


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